


The Sellsword King

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 96,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daeron Targaryen, second born son of Aerys II Targaryen grew up in his brother Rhaegar's shadow. But after Robert's Rebellion and his family's exile, he finds he must find a way to earn a living to keep his family safe, and to plot a return. The Sellsword King he must become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Four Month of 283 A.C. : Tower of Joy**

**Prince Daeron Targaryen**

By the gods was it hot in Dorne, his goodsister’s homeland was a sweltering place even in the midst of one of the harshest winters Westeros had ever known.  The tower where they were all staying, where his fool  of a brother had insisted they stay was nothing more than a watch post, designed by the Dornish in the days when the Seven Kingdoms were just that, and as such it had lots of things that would serve as defences but no sources of food or water. And so Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell would often have to ride to nearby villages to procure these supplies and would often come back speaking of the tales the villagers were talking of, tales that seemed more and more untrue as the days went on, tales of war and of a spurned man fighting for his lady love. Daeron himself knew not why they were here, all he knew was that as Rhaegar’s squire he had had to aid his brother in his quest to abduct Lyanna Stark as she had made her way towards Riverrun for her brother’s wedding. Daeron had protested vigorously at this and had said it would bring nothing but trouble, but his brother had insisted saying that the ‘dragon must have three heads.’ Of the girl herself Daeron held little opinion, she was wild yes, but more of an annoyance than anything.

“My Prince?” the voice of Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard took him from his thoughts. Daeron looked up and nodded for the man to continue. “Prince Rhaegar wishes for your presence downstairs.”

Daeron nods, stands up and follows the man to the place where they took their meals. He looks at his brother and sees Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Gerold Hightower, the sight of Ser Gerold is surprising. “You summoned me brother?”

His brother looked tired, no doubt from his exploits with his she wolf. “Yes, Ser Gerold has news of Westeros that I thought you should know brother.”

Daeron looks to Ser Gerold, and the white bull takes a breath and then says. “I have been sent by your father, his grace King Aerys. Both of you are summoned back to King’s Landing, Prince Rhaegar to lead the king’s armies, and Prince Daeron to help in the defence of the royal family.”

“What?” Daeron asks. “Why does Rhaegar need to lead the king’s armies? Who are we at war with?”

Ser Gerold is silent for a moment and then says. “Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. They called their banners after King Aerys called for their heads. Stark’s brother, Brandon had come to King’s Landing some two weeks after you all disappeared, calling for Prince Rhaegar to come out and die. The king had him arrested, for threatening the life of the crown prince, and then summoned Lord Brandon’s father along with the fathers of the man’s companions. Lord Rickard demanded a trial by combat to have his son’s name cleared, and Aerys in his madness had the man burned and his son and heir choked to death. We are at war.”

The words of the Lord Commander hit Daeron like a thunderstorm, the kingdom at war again, and for what? His father’s madness and his brother’s lusts. He turns to his brother and says. “This, this is all your fault Rhaegar. I warned you that something like this might happen. Did you not know what would happen should you take Baratheon’s betrothed? Brandon Stark was a hot head the whole kingdom knew that, and yet you still had to take the Stark girl? And for what?”

His brother is silent and then merely says. “The prophecy said that there must be three heads of the dragon, and so I took Lyanna Stark. She will give me my Visenya.”

“And what of Elia and your children brother? Did you stop to spare a thought for them? Robert Baratheon is a dangerous man even when not angered, and our father is not exactly the sanest of men right now. Is your damnable prophecy worth their lives?” Daeron asked, his anger growing.

“Sometimes when one wishes to achieve something of import, things must be sacrificed for the greater good.” Rhaegar responds.

At that Daeron’s patience snaps and he stands up and walks across to his brother and punches him square in the face. “You are no true dragon. You are a coward and a craven, spending your time fucking the Stark girl. Are you even going to tell her?”

At this his brother hesitates, and Daeron sees something of the older brother who used to play with him before Harrenhal. “I… I do not want to upset her. She, she has begun missing home as of late, and I do not want to worsen it.”

Daeron snorts then and says. “She is no child brother. You saw to that, she is no maiden. She knew what she was doing when she fled with you, and now she should face the consequences of her actions. If you will not tell her, I will, and you know that I will not be as indirect as you might be brother. Even if she is your wife now.”

His brother’s eyes narrow then and he asks. “You dislike her so much that you would not even give her the chance to know some more happiness before the world comes back to life for her? For us?”

Daeron grits his teeth then and says. “Your head is in the clouds if you still think life has not come back for us brother. Ser Gerold’s news has done just that. And if it came between choosing, Elia and my niece and nephew and my brothers and mother, over some girl from the north whom I do not like. I would go for my family any day. For Lyanna Stark shall never any family of mine.”

“Very well then brother.” Rhaegar says coldly. “You shall remain here, and I shall go and speak with Lyanna.”

With that Rhaegar stands and goes to leave, but before he can so much as head for the stairs Ser Gerold speaks then. “There was one more thing my prince. King Aerys has demanded that you return as soon as possible to King’s Landing, both you and Prince Daeron. He also said that if the Stark girl was with you, that I should bring her with me. Or better yet kill her.”

His brother stops and looks at the lord commander, fire in his eyes and he asks. “You shall be doing neither Ser Gerold. My father does not possess enough of his senses to go about making such an order. More than likely he would have forgotten what he said by the time you left King’s Landing.” Ser Gerold clearly looks uncomfortable for Rhaegar says. “I shall go back to King’s Landing as shall my brother, but Princess Lyanna remains here.”

With that Rhaegar turns and walks up the stairs to where he and Lyanna spend most of their time. Daeron and the three white knights are silent for some time before Daeron asks. “The war, how does it go?”

Ser Gerold sighs then. “Not well my prince, not well at all. Robert Baratheon has defeated the royalist armies of the Stormlands, and managed to evade Mace Tyrell at Ashford. At the Stoney Sept a host commanded by Connington was beaten by the rebel alliance. Connington exiled, and Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor sent out to bring the remnants of the crown’s army back to King’s Landing to await for Prince Rhaegar. Prince Lewyn has been sent to bring the Dornish spears to join the army the king is assembling.”

“Has word been sent to Casterly Rock?” Daeron asked.

“No my prince. His Grace fears Lord Tywin and does not wish to summon him.” Ser Gerold says.

Daeron is about to respond when they hear shouting and screaming coming from above, clearly Rhaegar has just broken the news to his lady. Daeron snorts then and says. “It seems Rhaegar is finally seeing the claws of his lady.” No one laughs and as the shouting gets louder, Daeron asks. “How are my brothers doing? And my lady mother?”

“Well, Prince Aegon improves with the sword each day. Princes Jaehaerys and Viserys are growing stronger each day.” Ser Gerold responds.

Daeron is about to ask something else, when Rhaegar comes down, his cheek bleeding, he looks slightly stunned. “She did not take the news well. I suggest we leave her be for some time.” He says sitting down.

Daeron snorts then and asks. “How did you expect her to take it brother? Your foolishness has cost her the lives of her brother and father. She was not like to thank you was she?”

His brother grits his teeth then and asks. “Ser Gerold when did my father ask for us to return?”

“As soon as possible. He said that I was to come with you and see to it that nothing else happened apart from both of you coming back to King’s Landing.” Ser Gerold says.

Rhaegar smiles then, and Daeron wonders why he seems so pleased with himself. “Ah but Ser Gerold you shall not be coming back with us. I need the three of you to defend this tower should anyone else learn of it and who is here. Princess Lyanna and our unborn child must be defended at all costs.”

“But my prince! The king has ordered me to return and I cannot disobey an order.” Ser Gerold protests.

Rhaegar says. “You swore a vow to me before Harrenhal, stating that I was the one you served not my father. Do you intend to go back on that vow now Ser?”

Ser Gerold looks as if he wishes to punch Rhaegar, and Daeron cannot deny that he shares a similar urge. Still the man merely says. “I will not go back on that vow Your Grace. And shall do as asked.”

This time Ser Arthur voices a protest. “But my prince, you would be bettered served if we fought alongside you. We can aid in defeating Robert Baratheon and ending this rebellion. We will do no good sat here in this infernal tower.”

Rhaegar smiles. “You will do what you are sworn to do. Protect the royal family, and the girl in Lyanna’s womb is more important any one save Aegon and Rhaenys. For she is the third head of the dragon and she will play a part in saving our world. You shall stay here.”

At this Daeron speaks. “Surely it would be better for Ser Gerold to return with us? Or if not him surely either Ser Arthur or Ser Oswell? Leave one knight to guard Lady Lyanna and the other two can come and fight alongside you brother. There is no need for all three.”

His brother shakes his head. “I shall allow one knight to come with us, no more. Ser Gerold, since it was you my father sent out, you shall return with us and that is that.”

That decided they spend the next two days making plans for their return to King’s Landing, and Rhaegar begins instructing Arthur and Oswell with what to do should he fall in battle. That his brother never once mentions Elia or their children infuriates Daeron, has his brother forgotten his duty so much? It seems to be so when he expends more energy on ensuring Lyanna Stark cannot leave after her first and only failed escape attempt, than he does in thinking on Elia and her children. Daeron can hear the arguments his brother and his whore have after that, and later when he sees Lyanna with red eyes he feels nothing but scorn for her, she brought this on herself, and he will not join her pity party.

They leave and arrive in King’s Landing, Ser Gerold by their side some three weeks later, to find the army their father assembled waiting for them camped in the Kingswood. When they arrive in the throne room their father takes one look at them and says. “So at last my boys have returned from the she wolf’s lair. Now go and kill the scum.”


	2. A Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia has to deal with the consequences of her husband's actions.

**Fifth Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Princess Elia Targaryen**

It had been two years since the Tourney of Harrenhal, a tourney that had been called by her husband in secret in order to assemble the lords great and small to discuss the future of the Seven Kingdoms. For King Aerys Targaryen had grown madder and madder since Duskendale, and his reign was becoming untenable, that was why her husband had urged for the tourney to be held in Harrenhal, secure in the knowledge that his father would not leave the Red Keep. And then Aerys had left and attended Harrenhal and all the hard work and planning had been for nought, the plans were scrapped, Lord Tully did not attend nor did his daughters, Lord Tywin remained in the Rock, and Jaime Lannister was raised to the Kingsguard. It was at that blasted tourney that Lyanna Stark came to the kingdom’s notice, when Elia’s own husband had honoured her with the crown of Queen of Love and Beauty. A scandal had been caused by that, and Elia had felt more frustration with Rhaegar over why he could not understand why everyone was so scandalised by what he had done, than she was insulted over being passed over. He had reassured he meant nothing by it and that had been the end of that. But then, he had left Dragonstone late one night, after she had given birth to Aegon, the son they had both hoped for, and he had disappeared not to be seen for a year.

In that time many things had happened, Lyanna Stark had gone missing and it had not taken Elia long to figure out whom had taken her, and that in itself had hurt, her husband was a liar and a kidnapper now, for whether or not the girl had consented, and the kingdoms would never view it as such. A search had been put out for her husband, and her goodfather had taunted her saying she was not good enough, and Elia had never felt so alone as she had done in that moment. Then Brandon Stark came charging into the Red Keep demanding Rhaegar come out and die, and instead he and his companions and his father and their fathers had died. Elia can still smell the smoke and charred flesh, Ashara had cried to herself then before being sent back to Starfall, pregnant as she was with Stark’s child.

And now the man responsible for it all was sat in front of her, and Elia felt all the anger boiling up inside of her yet she said nothing waiting for him to speak. He did so eventually. “Elia, I know what you must be thinking, but please let me explain myself.”

Elia’s eyes narrow and then she says. “Very well, explain, explain where you have been whilst we have been paying for your foolishness.”

Her husband winces at the harshness of her tone, and she takes some pleasure in that. “Please Elia. You know how much the prophecy means to me. My grandfather wed my father to my mother in order to try and fulfil it. I have spent half my life trying to decipher it, and now I think I finally have. Lyanna Stark was meant to give me, the third head of the dragon, a Visenya for our Aegon and Rhaenys. That is why I went with her that she was willing to go was a welcome addition.”

Elia stiffens then. “You took her for the prophecy? Her brother and father died because of your obsession with a prophecy? And you say you would have taken her, even if she had not been willing to go? Rhaegar what is this madness?”

Her husband’s eyes narrow then and his tone is cold when he says. “It is not madness. I am trying to ensure that the world does not end from the darkness that is coming. Lyanna Stark wanted a way out of her betrothal to Robert Baratheon and I gave it to her. I do not understand why everyone is questioning why I have done what I have done. I admit that perhaps I should have left an explanation but there was not enough time, I had a limited window to act and so I took it.”

Elia cannot understand what she is hearing, her husband was a dreamer but he was logical as well. “Rhaegar, surely you cannot mean that? Surely you understand why there is a war being fought, and why some of the blame lies with you. Lyanna Stark is betrothed to Robert Baratheon, and the last time a Baratheon was denied something he wanted by a Targaryen, the realm bled. Surely the realm must come before some prophecy.”

Her husband said something then that Elia could not hear before he repeated it more loudly. “She is no longer betrothed to Robert Baratheon. We ended that betrothal when we were wed, before the heart tree in Harrenhal and then again by a septon. She is my wife.” At Elia’s horrified expression Rhaegar merely says. “You did not think I would allow my Visenya to be a bastard did you? No she must be true born and she will be when she comes into this world.”

Yet another blow to her self-esteem that Elia has been dealt by the Targaryens. “Where is she then Rhaegar?”

Her husband’s eyes narrow once more and he says in a voice laced with barely concealed anger. “She is in a safe place with Oswell and Arthur protecting her. And she shall remain there until this foolishness with Baratheon is done.”

“You did not bring Arthur with you? I would have thought you would want the finest knight in all of Westeros by your side when you ride to battle?” Elia asked.

Rhaegar shakes his head and Elia feels something in her stomach sink at that. “No Arthur will serve me better protecting Lyanna. She is important, just as you, Rhaenys and Aegon are. My father wishes for you to remain here in King’s Landing and so you shall. You will be safe here, for I shall not fall in battle. It is not time for me to leave this world yet.”

“How can you be so sure of that? You are a mortal man Rhaegar, you are not some sort of god. And there are no dragons for you ride and bring to battle either. Robert Baratheon is said to be a warrior without peer.” Elia said.

Her husband merely smiles at that and says. “You need not worry Elia, my lady. Robert Baratheon is a man as am I, but he is a stag whilst I am a dragon. And dragons can devour stags like they are nothing. Sooner or later Baratheon shall realise that, after all I do have something he cares about.”

With that Elia realises that she might not be able to talk any further sense into her husband and so she asks in a small voice. “When do you leave for battle?”

Her husband takes her hand and says softly. “I leave on the morrow. You need not fear though my lady I shall be well.” With that he stands and leaves.

Shortly after he is gone, her uncle Prince Lewyn comes into speak with her. “Princess,” he greets her formally. “You wished to see me?”

Elia smiles at her uncle and gestures for him to sit down, when he does so she asks. “You are well uncle? How was Dorne?”

Her uncle smiles slightly and says. “I am well Elia, truly I am. And Dorne, Dorne was Dorne. The people are angry with how the Targaryens have treated you, they do not forget the conquest of Dorne, nor do they forget how well a previous Martell Princess was treated by her husband. Doran asks after you as well, and he wanted me to say to you that he is making plans to have you protected should things go awry with Rhaegar.”

Elia looks at her uncle and asks. “What sort of plans uncle? Did Doran specify?”

Her uncle shakes his head and says. “He did not, he only said that he wants you to know that he is working on something. And that Oberyn shall be returning from exile sooner than was expected.”

At this Elia gasps. “Oberyn returning from exile? But then that means that Doran is preparing for another war. Does he expect things to go bad uncle? Do you?”

Her uncle takes her hand then and says. “I know not how this will go Elia. I will not lie to you, in war, things could go either way. All I will say is what I know, Robert Baratheon and the rebels have not lost a single battle, the Tyrells are too busy filling themselves off of the fat of the Stormlands to be of any use, and now we march to war, something we have not done since the war of the ninepenny kings. Many things could happen during this battle, but Rhaegar has three knights of the Kingsguard with him, and we are all experienced warriors.”

“And who are these three knights who are leaving with my husband uncle?” Elia asked.

Her uncle smiled slightly as he often would do when she was a little girl. “Why myself I am commanding the Dornish forces, then Ser Jonothor is leading those rivermen loyal to the crown, Ser Barristan is commanding what Stormlanders there are in the host. Ser Gerold and Ser Jaime are to remain here in King’s Landing to protect the royal family.”

Elia nods and then asks. “How is Ashara doing uncle? Is she going to be safe in Starfall or would she be better off being in Sunspear?”

Her uncle is silent for a moment and then says. “Distraught, her child was a stillborn girl. From what I know, she has not left her rooms since the birth. Sunspear would be nothing but a death trap for her. Especially as I am not entirely sure that it is safe from the Spider and his web. No she is safe in Starfall with her brother and sister and nephew.”

Elia nods her heart breaking for her friend and then she merely says. “Very well then uncle. I wish you all the best for tomorrow. May you return safely.”

Her uncle leaves and before she heads to bed that night, she checks in on her daughter and son, happy that they are content she goes to bed, with Rhaegar sleeping in his own rooms, she tosses and turns. Dreams of a battle being fought over a river, the sounds of steel clashing and sparks flying, men roaring in triumph and boys crying out in pain for their mothers. She knows not what she is seeing but it disturbs her, and then in the middle of it all, two figures become clear in the haze. One man wears stag antlers on his helm, the other has dragon wings on his helm. They meet in a daze of battle and they exchange blow after blow after blow, until the dragon helmed man falls to the ground, a woman’s name on his lips.

Elia awakens with a start to see the sun shining through the curtains, she gets up and as she tries to push the dream from her head she gets changed and picks up her children from the nursery where they are asleep. Accompanied by Ser Jaime Lannister, as well as with the other members of the royal family they walk to the bottom of Aegon’s High Hill and towards the Dragon Gate, before her husband rides through the gates of the city he stops and turns towards her. “I shall return my lady. I promise you I shall.” The thoughts of her dream still echoing in her head, all Elia can do is nod, her husband smiles and then he is gone, and the army follows him. That night, Elia goes to the Great Sept of Baelor to pray, for what she knows not.


	3. Dante's Inferno

**Sixth Month of 283 A.C. The Trident**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

The war to remove the Targaryens from power and to gain justice for the wrongs done by the Mad King had lasted for a year, the days were beginning to blur together for Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, if they had not already done so. The war had begun when Aerys Targaryen had called for his and Robert’s heads after executing father and Brandon, Eddard could still remember the sense of fear and grief that had engulfed him when Jon Arryn had told him the news. He could remember the vows of vengeance Robert and Denys had sworn, and yet now here they were what should be the final battle in this war, and yet Eddard was still not sure where Lyanna was, Benjen was safe in Winterfell but Lyanna, his wild and fierce little sister was still missing. Had Rhaegar truly kidnapped her as father and Brandon had thought, or was there something else going on here. Eddard knew not, and still there were times when he felt angry at Lyanna, and at Brandon for their foolishness, and the horrors of the Battle of the Bells where so many good men had died would flash before his eyes. And then his thoughts would turn to Catelyn, his wife, she who should have been Brandon’s and their as of yet unborn child and he would pray to the old gods and new that he would live to see them again.

Right now though he was in a command tent planning yet another battle. Robert, their foster father Jon Arryn and his goodfather Hoster Tully as well as the Greatjon Umber, Ser Brynden Tully and Lord Bronze Yohn Royce were all in the war council. Robert spoke first. “We all know that the scouts have reported Rhaegar Targaryen has finally shown his face from whatever gods forsaken whole he has been hiding in for the past year. The Dornish have added their strength and are marching towards us. But the Tyrells remain in the Stormlands growing fat off of my land. We must beat Rhaegar and his men and then take King’s Landing and quickly.”

The Greatjon nodded and said. “I believe we should hit them hard. They will be expecting us to wait here on the western bank and if I know these southerners they will try and bring men around us and tail us. We must march now and hit them whilst they are stilling trailing towards us.”

Lord Hoster spoke then. “Such an approach bears a lot of unnecessary risks. We hold the high ground here. Let them come to us, our men are battle tested and hardened, whereas Rhaegar’s host is not. And yet, our men are tired, we have fought many skirmishes against royalist forces, and as such our men could use the respite that this time provides us.”

Jon voiced his agreement. “Aye, Lord Hoster speaks sense. Whilst what you suggest is an admirable thing Lord Umber, we must bear in mind that we are all tired and worn from the war so far. Rhaegar’s men will be fresh, and he has some of the best commanders in the Kingsguard with him. No doubt they will warn him of the potential for us to do what you suggest and they will prepare accordingly.”

“So we just sit here and wait then? Like sitting ducks? I like this not. The sooner I can crush Rhaegar Targaryen to dust for what he has caused, the happier I will be.” Robert boomed.

“Rhaegar should be taken alive.” Eddard said softly, making everyone turn to face him. “We still do not know where Lyanna is Robert. Killing Rhaegar will not make that any easier. He alone will know where she is, I would rather he be taken alive if at all.”

“Ned is right Robert.” Jon said. “If you are intent on marrying the Lady Lyanna, you must first know where she is being held. Only then may you dispense of Rhaegar. Not before.”

Robert grumbles some and then says. “I suppose you are right. But the minute that bastard tells us where Lyanna is I will kill him and then have his head put on a spike.”

Eddard nods not wanting to say anything else. It is Lord Hoster who speaks then. “And what are we to do about the remaining Targaryens when this battle is done?”

“What do you mean? We fight, we kill Rhaegar and we kill the other Targaryens. I will not stand to see them remain alive.” Robert booms.

Jon speaks then. “Such a thing will not endear you to the Targaryen loyalists Robert. Nor will it endear you to the smallfolk. Kill all of the Targaryens and you will be seen as nothing better than Aerys. Rhaegar’s children shall be easy enough to deal with, wed Rhaenys Targaryen to your firstborn son, and have Aegon join the faith. As for Aerys other children, that is where the true problem lies.”

“And we are all agreed that no Targaryens shall be crowned once Prince Rhaegar is dead?” Lord Hoster asks.

“Damn right we are. I will never bow to another dragon so long as I live.” Robert booms.

“Very well then. Let us not waste any more time discussing the Targaryens and make our preparations for the battle.” Jon says.

Ser Brynden, in charge of their scouts and out riders speaks then. “From what my men have been able to gather, the Tyrells remain in the Stormlands, laying siege to the damnable castle. Mace Tyrell though has sent some 1,000 men under the command of his uncle Ser Moryn Tyrell to add to the forces of Rhaegar Targaryen. As has been mentioned before, Rhaegar does have the Kingsguard as commanders in his army, from what my men were able to see before they left, Ser Jonothor Darry commands the Riverlords who fight under the dragon banner, Ser Barristan Selmy commands the Stormlords who fight for the dragons, and Prince Lewyn commands the Dornish. Prince Rhaegar holds overall command.”

At this Eddard speaks. “Rhaegar has brought only three knights of the Kingsguard with him? That is most curious, when the battle of Redgrass Field was fought, there were five knights of the Kingsguard with the royal army.”

“The dragon clearly is over confident. No doubt his bloody head is up his arse.” Robert booms.

It seems Jon though has caught on to what Eddard was trying to suggest. “Was there any hint as to where the remaining members of the Kingsguard might be Ser Brynden?”

Ser Brynden shakes his head. “There was none given my lords I am afraid. Though if the rumours are true it should not be too hard to suggest that Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell are wherever Lady Lyanna is. Ser Gerold most likely remained in King’s Landing and Ser Jaime most probably stands guarding the king.”

All of them nod and then it comes to deciding who will take what post in the battle. Robert as always says. “I and my Stormlords shall take up the vanguard and we shall lead our host over the water.”

Eddard rolls his eyes at that, just like Robert to put himself in the midst of danger. “I shall command the centre and my men shall make up that host.” Eddard says deciding that if his friend is going to be in harm’s way he might as well ensure he lives to the end.

After that, Jon takes the left, Hoster the right and the reserve is made up of the wounded and the less capable. The council meeting ends and Eddard spends the next two days praying in the godswood and speaking with his men keeping them upbeat and ensuring that they are happy. When Robert’s squire arrives on the third day to tell him the royalist army has been spotted he nods and soon enough, armoured and mounted he leads his men to the point of crossing and he speaks then, initially unsure of what to say, but finding as he keeps speaking the words come to him naturally. “Men of the north! Today we have one last battle before us. We are here to fight for our freedom and to end tyranny, we are here to ensure that justice is served. For the North, for Westeros we fight!” His men take up the cry and begin shouting his name and that of his family. And then the charge begins.

Robert and his Stormlords have surely knocked a large dent in the royalist host as Eddard swings his sword he sees more and more bodies beginning to block the Green Fork than he thought possible. Ice becomes heavier the more he fights, swinging it left, right and centre, cutting men down with some ease, the sword increasingly becomes red, as the battle wears on. Eddard continues swinging his sword, left, right and centre, hacking, slashing, cutting, ducking and dodging. Doing all he can to remain alive.

The royalists do manage to land a fair few blows onto his own person as well. Eddard comes up against a rather large man who bears the arms of House Charlton who smashes his hammer into him again and again, denting his armour somewhat before he manages to cut him down to size with Ice. The tide of battle brings him face to face with Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard, his white armour stained with blood and dirt, the man says nothing but begins a rapid attack on Eddard. Considering how tired Eddard is and he only twenty, he wonders how Darry can spring so many swings and cuts and blows to Eddard when he is surely in his fifties.

Eddard is often on the back foot during Darry’s relentless attack, but as he noted earlier the man is old and as such begins to tire rather quickly. It is then that Eddard begins his own attack. Swinging Ice like a man possessed, he swings, cuts, ducks, feints, and slashes at the white knight using all the tricks in his arsenal to injure Darry. Eventually the man falls from his horse, bleeding from half a dozen wounds and Eddard rides on. He rides cutting through men and then notices a commotion towards the centre bank of the Fork, and he rides towards it to see Robert, stood in all his glory, armoured from head to foot his hammer held aloft in triumph, a body lying at his feet.

Eddard rides over and dismounts. “Robert.” He says. When his friend he says louder this time. “Robert? What happened?”

Robert seems to snap out of whatever daze he is in and he says. “I killed him Ned. I killed the bastard. Smashed him in with my war hammer.”

“I can see that Your Grace. What happened to leaving him alive?” Eddard asks.

“He would not surrender.” Robert says simply.

It is only later once news of Rhaegar’s death has spread and the royalists have either fled or bent the knee, and Robert has pardoned Ser Barristan Selmy and had him tended to that Eddard truly realises what this means. With Rhaegar dead, nothing stands between them and King’s Landing, at least this is what they all think until Ser Brynden walks into the tent and says. “One of my men has come back to say that he has seen Lannister banners marching towards the capital. It appears Tywin Lannister has finally stirred from the Rock.”

At this they all stiffen and Robert booms. “Has the man given any indication of whom he means to fight for?”

“It is likely Tywin will side with Aerys. After all he and the king were friends when they were young.” Jon says.

Robert snarls at that and then turns to Eddard and says. “Ned I want you to take your men and ride to King’s Landing. Secure the city and the Targaryens for me before Tywin gets there. Kill him and his men if he seems like to fight for the dragons.”

Eddard nods and says. “It shall be done Your Grace.”


	4. Kingslayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime Lannister learns a few things about himself and knighthood.

**Seventh Month of 283 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Jaime Lannister**

Much had changed since Jaime had been given his white cloak at Harrenhal. When he had been sworn to the Kingsguard, the realm had been bustling with the talk of spring and the summer to come, and talk of Rhaegar Targaryen potentially removing his father from the throne. Jaime had felt honoured to have joined the Kingsguard, the sworn brotherhood had been all he could think of when growing up as a squire, and he would get to spend more time with Cersei. But then his father had left the capital, and Jaime had been sent back to King’s Landing to guard Queen Rhaella and the younger Targaryen children. He had also soon come to learn that being a knight of the Kingsguard was not all the songs made it out to be. He was in the throne room the day Brandon Stark choked to death and his father burned alive, to sate the king’s mad desires, and the men he had looked up to Ser Gerold Hightower the white bull, Ser Barristan the bold, Ser Jonothor Darry, all of them had just stood there still as statues as the screams of the Starks had filled the hall. More and more he came to realise the vows of knighthood were a joke, a curse from the gods. Queen Rhaella was raped more and more as Aerys grew too fond of fire, and the day before the Queen and her children had left for Dragonstone gods that had been horrible.

Rhaegar Targaryen was dead slain by Robert Baratheon on the Trident, and now the rebel army was making its way towards King’s Landing, would more than likely be here soon enough. But so was his own father’s army, Tywin Lannister had finally stirred from Casterly Rock, and Aerys hoped that his father had come to renew childhood friendships, Jaime was not sure what to believe. “Ser Jaime,” the king’s voice brought him back from his dreams. “What did you dream of boy? Visions of glory? Of betraying your king to the rebels?”

The king looked a sight on the Iron Throne, his hair strewn everywhere his eyes wide. “No Your Grace. I did not dream of anything. I was merely thinking.” Jaime responded.

The king snorted. “Pah, thinking. That was all Rhaegar did, think. The boy was said to be cleverer than some maesters and yet in the end he died because he thought with his cock and not that brain of his. Now he is dead, and I live, his plans have failed and so shall the rebels. Rossart!”

The new hand of the king and the head of the alchemist’s guild stepped forward, bowing before the throne he spoke. “Your Grace?”

“How far along are you with the wildfire? Can it be used today if deemed necessary?” the king asked.

Jaime looked at the hand of the king and then at Grand Maester Pycelle whose eyes had grown wide. The hand of the king nodded smiling widely. “Yes Your Grace, they are more than ready to be used.”

The king nodded and was about to speak when a member of the city watch appeared and said. “Your Grace, Lord Tywin is at the gates and he requests entry into the city.”

Jaime sees the king smile then, savagely. “Ah so the servant has come back to the master. Tell me counsellors of mine, shall I let the lion in?”

Pycelle as expected speaks up in favour. “Your Grace is right to think Lord Tywin has come to aid you in your time of need. Lord Tywin has always been a most Leal and loyal servant to Your Grace. He will not fail you now.”

The eunuch speaks then. “But then Grand Maester, where was Lord Tywin when the king called his banners? Why would he come now when he would not come then? I say Your Grace should not open the gates at all.”

Pycelle speaks then. “Lord Tywin has answered the summons of his king now, the past is in the past it does no good to allow such things to be dwelt on. He is here with aid, Your Grace would be wise to heed it and take it.”

The eunuch protests once more and says. “Your Grace, I strongly advice against this. Lord Tywin more than likely wishes to gain something from this action. You cannot give him more leeway.”

The king speaks then. “You have always given me good counsel Varys. But in this I shall not let you influence me. Tywin Lannister has come like a good servant should and now he shall do as he should have done many years ago. Tell Lord Manly to open the gates to Tywin and his men.”

Jaime has a bad feeling about this but says nothing, and instead he remains standing there still and silent. “Go and see to your little birds Varys, Pycelle go with him.” The king commands.

Both men bow and leave, leaving just Jaime and the king as well as Rossart. Jaime stands and listens as the king mutters to himself. “Tywin a loyal servant indeed. No doubt the fool has come to ask for some boon or the other for this service. He should have answered my summons immediately, what was he doing during the war? Fucking a ghost? Pah, I should have had him burnt along with the other fools that day after Duskendale.”

Rossart steps forward then and asks tentatively. “Your Grace, what do you wish done about the deposits?”

The king stops his ranting for a moment to fix the man with a very long stare. “What do you mean what do I wish? Keep them there or burn yourself.”

The man nods. “Of course Your Grace. I merely meant to say….”

The man is cut off when another man of the city watch enters and says. “Your Grace, I bring bad tidings. Tywin Lannister and his men have turned their cloaks. They are sacking the city and killing the people.”

At this Aerys eyes bulge out of his face, spittle flies from his face when he says. “TYWIN HAS TURNED TRAITOR? The servant has betrayed its master? Why that ungrateful little… anything he ever wanted I gave it to him without question. And now he turns on me? I will see him burn and die.” Turning to the man he says. “Kill them, kill them all.” The man bows and hurries out. He then turns to Rossart and says. “Set the deposits on fire Rossart. Robert wants my city? Let him be king over ash and bone.”

The man bows and heads off, no doubt to find his fellow worms. Jaime stands there, thinking through all that has happened in his two years as a knight of the Kingsguard, and the vows that being a knight itself entails. Defending the innocent, and all of that, and he hears the screams of Brandon and Rickard Stark, and the cries of Queen Rhaella and something inside of him snaps. He turns round so he looks at the king. “Please Your Grace, there is no need to burn the city. Let me go with terms to speak with my father. I can get him to see reason.”

The king turns to look at him then, his eyes wide and mad. “YOU? The son of a traitor, get his traitor father to see reason. I do not think so! You are nothing more than a shadow, a puppet to do as I please with. You were never meant to join the Kingsguard, your father wanted you as his heir, I took that from him and I will take your life as well. Now IF YOU WANT TO SERVE ME, go find your father and bring me his head. Or die.”

Jaime hesitates for a moment torn between his duty to his king and his duty as a knight. “Your Grace, surely there must be another way.” He pleads.

“Another way? NO there is no other way. I am the dragon, not Rhaegar and not my wife. ME, I AM THE DRAGON. And I shall not let some stupid lion defeat me. Now what will you do?” the king shouts.

Jaime once again is torn in a moral dilemma, he stands there in silence for a long moment, before whispering. “I shall do as you command Your Grace.” With that he bows before the throne, and walks out of the throne room, walking along he hears the shouts and the screams of the city below and even in the red keep, none notice him though, and when he comes across Rossart near a pillar, he unsheathes his sword and walks towards him. “Lord Rossart,” he begins. “I have a message from the king.” Rossart turns and then groans as Jaime buries his sword into the man’s chest. He removes the sword from the man and then sword in hand walks back into the throne room.

When Aerys sees him his eyes glint madly and he asks. “Did you do it then boy? Did you become a kinslayer?”

Jaime wonders what to say to the king, who has now stood up and is walking down to the steps of the throne. Quickening his pace, Jaime walks up the steps and says. “No Your Grace. But I do know this. Your time is at an end.” With that he buries his sword into the king’s stomach and shoves it in deeper and harder. The king moans with pain and whispers. “Why, why?” but then Jaime pulls his sword out and sees that it is covered in blood. As the king falls down the steps he walks up the remaining steps to sit the throne and says. “Because I would rather be a Kingslayer than watch the world burn.”

And so he sits there for what seems an age, watching the blood drip from his sword onto the steps, and occasionally looking down at Aerys body to make sure the king does not rise from the dead. He sits on the throne and wonders what has become of him, the boy who wanted to become Arthur Dayne and in the process broke the most sacred vow of the Kingsguard to defend the king. But he has saved the lives of many by this one action, he must find the other pyromancers and kill them before anything more can happen of the wildfire plot. He moves slightly as the doors to the throne room open and men come streaming in, “Ser Jaime?” he hears a voice ask.

He looks up and sees Lord Roland Crakehall looking at him curiously. “Yes my lord? What do you want?”

The man is silent for a moment before responding. “Your father is looking for you. And with Aerys dead, I am sure he would want to know who to crown king?”

Jaime laughs then, not sure how his voice sounds, not caring either way. “Crown who you wish. I care not.”

With that Roland Crakehall and his men leave the throne room and make their way elsewhere. Jaime knows that perhaps he should ask what has been done to Princess Elia and her children, but he finds that just now he cannot care. Targaryens and their problems have ruined his dreams of knighthood now and all he wants to do is sit and think of Cersei. He begins to dream of her then, of her hair in between his hands, and of her lips on his, and his cock begins to twitch. The dream becomes more and more vivid, so much so that he is not sure how much time passes before he hears another voice says. “Kingslayer.”

He looks up and sees Eddard Stark looking at him with something akin to disgust on his face. Jaime feels anger boil up inside of him, who is this man to call him something, he did the man a favour. Aloud all he says is. “Worry not Stark, I was merely keeping the throne warm for our friend Robert. You can sit on it if you want, it’s mighty uncomfortable.”


	5. Irony of the Tower

**10 th Month of 283 A.C. Outside Storm’s End**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

Rhaegar Targaryen was dead, slain on the battlefield of the Trident by Robert Baratheon, the Targaryen forces had either retreated or surrendered upon word of their silver prince’s death, and those forces that had retreated back to King’s Landing, Robert had tasked him with chasing down and getting them to submit. It had been whilst he was on the march that he had learnt that Tywin Lannister and his men- all 12,000- of them were marching from Casterly Rock and making great haste for King’s Landing. Unsure of whether Lannister was friend or foe, Ned drove his men all the harder for it. But they reached too late, when they came the gates of King’s Landing were open already, Tywin Lannister had used trickery to convince the mad king that he was here to save the day, and his men were sacking the city in Robert’s name. The sight of all the blood and gore and the horrors that the Lannister men were enacting on the people of King’s Landing still gave him nightmares, and when he arrived at the throne room expecting to find Aerys Targaryen sat there laughing madly, all he found was Jaime Lannister sat on the Iron Throne looking smug and Aerys Targaryen dead at his feet, it did not take a genius to work out that Lannister had broken his oaths. Soon enough the remaining forces loyal to the Targaryens surrendered and within three days of the sack, Robert and the rest of the army had arrived at King’s Landing, where Tywin Lannister placed the bodies of Elia Martell and her children at the foot of the throne. Another horror of war, that Robert accepted, they argued over that, murder Ned called, it the fruits of war Robert had called it, and Ned had left to lift the siege of Storm’s End himself, along with his army.

Ned called a halt to the march as Storm’s End and the Tyrell camp came into sight. “Who holds the command here? In the name of King Robert Baratheon.”

Silence and then a tall man wearing green armour and with long brown hair rode forward. “I do. My lord of Stark.”

“And you are?” Eddard asked.

“I am Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. And the forces of the Reach have been acting on the orders of our king Aerys Targaryen.” Tyrell replied, sounding all so pompous.

“This siege is over now Lord Tyrell.” He said in his most commanding voice. “Aerys Targaryen and his heirs are dead. A new king sits the throne, a king who will prove just and trusting and will reward leal and loyal service. Dip your banners and this siege may end peacefully. Robert Baratheon will not hold any grudges.”

Tyrell looked ready to agree when a man with sharp eyes and a pointy beard asked. “Why should we dip our banners now? Baratheon and his forces are weak and tired from the rebellion. Our forces are still fresh and untested. We can hold out for much longer.”

His eyes narrowing Eddard said plainly. “You could continue on with the siege, but if word were to get to King’s Landing then you can expect the armies of the new king would be down onto you much quicker than you could think possible and you would all die. Is that truly worth it? Surrender now, and you may leave in peace.”

There was some silence and then Lord Tyrell said. “I must discuss this with my lords bannermen Lord Stark. Please give us a few moments.” With that he turned round and rode back off into the distance.

Whilst they waited for Tyrell and his lords to reach a decision the Greatjon spoke. “If the need arises we can always smash them ourselves Ned. They have not fought for a year, no doubt their men are hungry for battle. I still want my share of beating southerners.”

He grimaced slightly and said. “I hope it does not come to that Lord Umber. The sooner I can end this siege the better. I wait for the day I can return north.”

Lord Bolton spoke then, his voice eerily calm. “We all do my lord. But for once I do agree with Lord Umber. Lord Tyrell is a vain and proud man just like his father was before him. I have no doubt that sooner or later the man will do something foolish that we shall have to correct.”

He was about to respond when Lord Tyrell appeared once more. “I have spoken with my lords’ bannermen, and we have agreed that it makes sense to end this siege now and bend the knee. And so we shall.” With that Tyrell dismounts from his horse and gets to a knee in front of Eddard and says. “In the name of the seven, I do hereby forswear any and all allegiance to the Targaryens and their cause. I do pledge myself, my family and my kingdom to the one true king Robert Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men. May the seven strike me down if I break this oath.”

“You may rise now Lord Mace. And let us go and speak with the garrison in Storm’s End.” Eddard says.

It is something that will stay with him through the rest of his days the sight of the Tyrell camp slowly beginning to disengage and break up, and as they ride for Storm’s End they find the gates opening and a man so gaunt he looks like a skeleton rides up to them. “What is going on here? What is the meaning of all of this?” the man asks directly.

From the look of him Eddard would not know him but when he asks. “Be you Stannis Baratheon?”

“Yes, who else would be foolish enough to ride out in plain sight of two armies with only himself for company but a Baratheon?” the man asks.

Eddard smile slightly at that. “My lord Stannis, I am Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I have come in the name of your brother, King Robert to end the siege of Storm’s End. It is with great pleasure that I tell you that the Tyrells have agreed to bend the knee and end the siege.”

Robert’s brother looks at him for a moment and then looks at Tyrell then back at Ned and he merely says. “Very well then. I shall tell my castle that. Now if you excuse me I must leave.” With that Baratheon turns round and rides away back into the castle.

“Such rudeness, you’d think the boy would show some gratitude at least.” Tyrell grumbled.

Holding back from a quick retort that was on his tongue, Eddard only said. “He has been holding the castle against a year long siege. He might not be in the mood for pleasantries just now my lord Tyrell.”

That in itself proved to be true, as Eddard and his men spent the next two nights camped outside Storm’s End discussing things such as the end of the war and what they planned on doing once they got home. It was only on the third day did the Gates of Storm’s End open, and most conveniently when Tyrell and his party had begun the march home. Baratheon rode out in the company of a balding man missing two fingers. “Lord Stark, please do come into the castle. I would have offered you sanctuary from the cold earlier but with Tyrell outside I did not think it wise to increase the number of mouths I needed to feed.”

Eddard nodded and then rode into the castle followed by his six most trusted companions Lord Howland Reed, Lord Willam Dustin, Ser Martyn Cassel, Ser Mark Ryswell, Theo Wull and Ethan Glover. As they entered the castle what he saw shocked him, the people of Storm’s End were literally all skin and bones, it was clear they had run out of food, or were very close to running out of food. Clearly something showed on his face for Stannis merely said. “We were getting down to eating rats my lord. Soon enough we would have had to eat people. Had it not been for Ser Davos here, we would have most likely died before you could come.”

“Then you deserve the highest of honours Ser. For saving the king’s family.” Ned said, speaking to the knight riding on Stannis’s left, who merely smiled and said nothing.

“Yes, yes. Now I know you came to end the siege of Storm’s End. But I am sure my brother gave you another task upon relieving the siege. The Targaryen children are still on Dragonstone are they not?” Stannis asked.

He grimaced slightly. “Aye they are. Prince Daeron has been crowned by his mother and Ser Gerold Hightower. Robert has asked me to ask you build a new fleet and once that fleet is complete to set sail for Dragonstone.”

Had it been anyone else, Ned was sure they would ask how they were supposed to do such a thing, but Robert’s brother merely nodded and then said. “Very well then my lord. I shall have the servants see to you and your men’s needs. In the meantime I must go and check on my brother.”

Ned nodded and as he and his men took their seats in what he belatedly realised was the lord’s solar he wondered just what sort of things Stannis Baratheon and Storm’s End had gone through in this war. His thoughts were interrupted when Willam asked. “How long will we tarry here my lord? We cannot afford to waste a single moment more, now that we know where Lady Lyanna is.”

“Aye we cannot tarry here for long Lord Eddard. For all we know those Kingsguard traitors are spiriting her away across the sea to Essos, where she will be lost for good.” Ser Mark said.

“I do not think she’ll be going anywhere.” Howland said softly.

“Oh and what makes you so certain Howland? When it comes to the Targaryens and their madness, we have seen the Kingsguard can be just as mad.” Ethan said angrily.

“She will be with child most likely.” Howland said to the point. “Rhaegar and she were gone for a year, no doubt they did many things during that time. She will be to heavy to move.”

Ethan slammed his fists down on the table. “I wish Baratheon had not killed Rhaegar so I could kill him myself. The fool, what was he thinking?”

Through all this Ned said nothing he remained silent, but then he merely said. “We leave at first light tomorrow. I will not have my sister wait any longer than necessary. We ride through the snows if we must.”

At this there was some general murmuring of consent, and so they spent the remainder of the day making preparations for their journey, and then that night Ned found himself unable to sleep that much. Dreams of his father and Brandon burning etched into his mind, their screams having him tossing and turning, dreams of Catelyn and their new born son Robb, dreams of the battles he had fought and the deaths he had caused. All that caused him to toss and turn fretfully until morning came.

Thankfully that morning Stannis Baratheon merely bid them farewell, and Ned who had already explained some of what was happening to the Greatjon bid him march back north and so whilst his men rode north for home, Ned and his men rode further south, further south than Ned had ever been before. They rode through the Stormlands to see desolate plains and deserted lands, they rode through the Reach and saw the beauty of winter, and then Dorne, with its sands and its plains. The audacity of Prince Rhaegar bringing Lyanna to the homeland of his wife, struck Ned then, perhaps Rhaegar was as mad as his father?

They rode until they reached the tower, where as expected there were two figures standing guard waiting and expecting them. And a conversation was held that would remain with Ned for the rest of his days. “I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them.

“We were not there,” Ser Arthur answered

“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.

“When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.”

“Far away,” Ser Arthur  said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”

“I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”

“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Oswell

“Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Willem Darry have fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Daeron. I thought you might have sailed with them.”

“They are good men and true,” said Ser Oswell.

“But they know not what we know. For if they did they would not flee. For the Kingsguard does not flee.” Ser Arthur said. He donned his helm.

“We swore a vow,” explained Ser Oswell.

Ned’s men moved up beside him their swords drawn. They were seven against two

“And now it begins,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milk glass, alive with light.

“No,” Ned said with sadness in his voice. “Now it ends.” 


	6. A New King

**Sixth Month of 284 A.C. Dragonstone**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

By the folly of his father and brother he was King of Westeros, at least that was what his mother and all those who were loyal thought. When news of the sack of King’s Landing had reached them, writ in the eunuch’s hand, Daeron had despaired his goodsister and her children were dead and for what? Rhaegar’s folly and a Stag’s anger. His mother had declared him the rightful king, and when she had gotten Septon Eustace to crown him King of the Seven Kingdoms using his grandfather’s crown, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Willam Darry had sworn themselves to him as had Lucerys Velaryon his father’s former master of ships. His father, gods that was a thought, or rather a series of thoughts Daeron was not sure he wanted to have. He remembered his father from his childhood as being a kind and generous soul, though sometimes prone to bouts of anger, he was always gentle and kind with Daeron and his siblings. And then Duskendale happened, and something within his father changed. His mother had borne the brunt of it all and yet she never spoke a bad word about his father, and then Daeron had returned from the Tower of Joy and his father had literally been stark raving mad. It had terrified him, and leaving Elia and her children there with him had worried him more than anything, in fact he was more worried for her than his own brother Rhaegar was, and that angered him.

Now they were all dead and the burden fell to him. “What is the state of our ships Lord Velaryon?” Daeron asked.

Lucerys Velaryon was tall and broad shouldered with pale hair and violet eyes, he was one of father’s most trusted advisors. “Bad Your Grace. The storm has destroyed all but five of them, and even then only one is truly sailable.”

Daeron grimaced at this. “How soon can that ship be prepared and how many men can it hold?”

“It can be ready by tonight Your Grace, at a push. And it can hold twenty men.” Lucerys replied.

“Very well then. Go and prepare the ship, and round up the men as best as you can. I want them all ready by nightfall. I will not be caught unawares by Stannis Baratheon. And send in Ser Willam and Ser Gerold when you leave.” Daeron said. The man bowed and left.

His mother, who looked so tired after giving birth to his sister Daenerys asked. “Do you truly think it a good idea to trust Lucerys Velaryon Daeron? The man did nothing but whisper poison in your father’s ear for many years.”

Daeron grimaces. “He served father well and honourably, and he and his family were the first to come and swear themselves to me after the sack. I will not repay his loyalty by leaving him here to dry.”

“Well at least Ser Gerold and Ser Willam should be able to keep an eye on him.” His mother says.

Daeron grits his teeth. “No one will keep an eye on him. He is sworn to me, he will answer to me and me alone.”

His mother goes to speak but then the door opens and Ser Gerold and Ser Willam enter the room. “You summoned us Your Grace?” Ser Gerold asks.

“Indeed I did. Sit down both of you.” Daeron says. Once both men are seated, he swallows nervously and then says. “There was a raven from Starfall from the Lady Ashara Dayne. It would appear Eddard Stark and his men found where my brother had kept the Lady Lyanna. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell are both dead, Stark and three of his men live. Lyanna Stark died as well.”

Both men are silent for a moment and then Ser Gerold speaks. “A very sad loss. They were good men. And Lady Lyanna was a fierce girl.”

“A girl that is all she was. What Rhaegar saw in her I do not know? The kingdom bled and my son died because of her.” His mother says.

Daeron merely nods and then says. “She gives no mention as to whether Stark left the tower with a babe or not. So it seems that Rhaegar’s efforts on the girl were wasted the both died in vain.”

“How does the Lady Ashara know so much though? As far as I am aware, she was never in the Prince’s inner circle.” Ser Gerold says.

Daeron glares at the man and then says. “Lord Stark came to Starfall to return Dawn to the Daynes, and that is how Lady Ashara came to learn of her brother’s death. As to whether or not there was a child I am not sure but I shall have those lords loyal to me keep an eye out. Already there is talk of Stark bringing a bastard back to the north.”

His mother laughs then. “A Stark with a bastard? I highly doubt it, they have too much honour for that.”

Daeron nods. “For now that is not my concern. I must needs sort out the Kingsguard and Ser Gerold that is a task I shall leave to you for now. But there are other matters we must discuss. With my father and brother dead, there is a need for the line to continue. Ser Willam you have ever been a loyal servant to my family and for that service you deserve a just reward. And it is with my mother’s agreement that you shall wed her and become part of the royal family.”

Ser Willam is silent for a long time and then he finally says. “I, I am honoured Your Graces, beyond words. Truly I thank you.”

Daeron nods. “Protect my mother and see her to safety and that will be thanks enough. Now as you both know, Stannis Baratheon has sailed from Storm’s End with the new royal fleet and he shall be here any day now. Our own fleet has been badly damaged by the storm and as such we have only one ship left that can truly be manned and sailed. Lucerys Velaryon has been tasked with bringing men to the ship, no more than twenty, and so I want you to aid in the supervision.”

Ser Gerold asks then. “Can Lord Lucerys be trusted? The man is a viper, he might sooner sell us out to the usurper and keep the Driftmark then aid us.”

“He will do his duty to his king. Or I shall kill him.” Daeron says simply. Turning to speak to Ser Willam he says. “The arrangements in Braavos still stand? Your people know to expect us?”

Ser Willam nods and says. “Aye Your Grace. They know to expect us and they have made the suitable arrangements, for her grace and Princess Daenerys as well. The Sealord is an old friend of mine and has assured me that the usurper shall not get to us whilst we are in Braavos.”

Daeron nods. “That is good very good. Now, Ser Gerold I want you to go with my mother and bring my brothers and sister to the docks. If Lucerys Velaryon has done his job right, we shall be ready to go very soon.”

Ser Gerold stands and is about to get to the door when Ser Monford Velaryon heir to the Driftmark bursts in and says. “Pardons Your Graces, but the Baratheon fleet has been spotted not a mile from the coastline. We must go and now.”

“How ready are the ships? Are they habitable?” Daeron asks.

“As ready as they will ever be in this storm Your Grace.” Ser Monford says.

Daeron looks at his mother and says. “Go get Aegon and the others mother, Ser Gerold shall go with you. Get onto whatever ship Lord Lucerys tells you and we can go from there.”

“And what of you sweetling?” his mother asks.

Daeron puts a hand on the pommel of Dark Sister and says. “I will make sure that nothing goes awry.”

With that his mother and Ser Gerold leave with Ser Monford and Ser Willam and he remain behind for a moment and then they leave the room. Dragonstone is chaos, when Daeron steps out of the solar, servants are hurrying from place to place arranging things, doing this, that and the other. Daeron walks with Ser Willam by his side. “Ensure nothing gets lost or stolen, and make sure the eggs are well protected.” He tells Ser Willam. When the man goes to protest he says. “I will not have the usurper take one of the last set of eggs. Do as I say Ser and I shall see you on the ship.” The man hurries away and Daeron keeps walking down to where he knows the ashes of his ancestors are kept, he knows that coming here now is foolhardy but he must come, it is his duty. He walks and walks ignoring the hustle and bustle of the crowd and then he is there, in the crypts. The statues of his ancestors stand there proud and dignified, but he goes to the one of his father, recently put up in light of the sack. “I know I have failed you father. Dragonstone shall fall and the usurper shall hold it. But I will come back and reclaim what was taken from us. I will do my duty and protect our family. I will not be Rhaegar I swear.”

With that he turns from the statue and walks out of the crypts only to be greeted with the sight of Dragonstone men standing before him. “Why if it isn’t the dragonspawn. We’ll get a hefty reward from the King if we give him over.”

Daeron looks at them and asks. “What are you doing? I am your king.”

“You are not. Not since you left us here to rot.” Ser Willas Fell the castellan says.

“Traitor.” Daeron says, drawing Dark Sister not bothering to reason with the traitors. They advance on him, three of them. They swing at him one after the other, he blocks one blow, gets hit by another, blocks another blow. On and on they dance, swinging, blocking, hacking and slashing. Cutting and getting hit, Daeron can feel his skin bleeding from wounds taken in this fight, he should have worn armour. Gods why did he not see this coming. The men keep hammering away at him and he keeps fighting them, on and on it goes backwards and forwards, swinging and hacking.

He finally manages to kill one of the men, Waters he thinks the man’s name is, with a feint to the left and then a swing to the right. The other two keep hammering away at him though, pushing towards the crypts. He swings back harder and they begin moving forwards towards the docks, he keeps getting cut though and the blows are getting harder and his reactions slower. And then suddenly one of the men is killed, a sword through the chest, and Daeron through his haze sees Ser Garlan Flowers an old knight of the garrison fighting. “Go Your Grace, go to the ship. I will keep these men busy.”

Daeron nods barely able to see properly but he staggers down the steps towards the ships his sword dripping blood and his body protesting at every step. Ser Willam sees him as he approaches one of the ships and gasps. “What on earth happened Your Grace?”

“Traitors in the garrison. We must leave now, before Baratheon comes.” Daeron manages to wheeze before he collapses.

When he comes to his mother is looking at him her eyes filled with concern. “You gave us quite the fright there sweetling.”

“Where am I?” he asks.

“On the Proudwing. We managed to escape on the only ship not damaged by the storm. Aegon and your other siblings are asleep now. We are safe.” His mother replies.

“Dragonstone?” he asks wearily.

“Fallen.” His mother replies.

Daeron nods and then falls back into an uneasy sleep.


	7. Red Viper

**Eighth Month of 284 A.C. Sunspear**

**Prince Oberyn Martell**

The war was over, but the anger that Oberyn felt was still raw. How could it not be, when the anger he felt was also grief? Grief over the death of his sister, who he had been very close to, grief over the deaths of a niece and a nephew that he had only seen once. His anger was still so fresh and all over the place that he did not think he could truly ever see the light again. Had Rhaegar not been so foolish as to run away with the Stark child then perhaps this war would never have happened, but then again his goodbrother had always been slightly off, there was something about him that had distinctly worried Oberyn. His sister had always been too good for that Silver Haired prat. And it seemed half of Dorne agreed with him. And yet Doran did nothing and it was frustrating.

“How can you be so calm and willing to accept the terms that Robert Baratheon lays at your feet, when it is because of Baratheon and his allies that Elia is dead?” Oberyn fumed.

“Because it will mean peace and an end to this constant fighting that we have been in for a year now. Dorne cannot suffer any more losses Oberyn.” Doran said.

“Peace? How can you want peace when our sister and her children will go unavenged, so long as that usurper sits the throne? He and the Lannisters would rather see us rot then ever give us justice. I do not believe what Arryn says is true.” He growled.

His brother as always was patient. “We cannot and will not do anything now. We cannot afford to do so. No matter how much you, or anyone else might wish to do something. We have nowhere near the strength to take on Baratheon.”

“Then give me leave to go across to Essos and bring my men here to Dorne. And give me leave to bring the other companies here, and we can plan for our revenge.” Oberyn said desperately.

“Plan what Oberyn? A war? War is not a game as you should know by now. If you do this, then all of Dorne will bleed and more of our people will die. And that is something, I cannot and will not allow.” Doran replied.

“Do you not want revenge for our sister then Doran? Have you become so concerned with appearances that you have forgotten what it means to be Dornish then brother?” Oberyn questioned

“Of course I do brother. But I must put the needs of the people above my own. And the people will die needlessly in this attempted war of yours.” Doran replied.

“Daeron Targaryen remains in Braavos waiting for us to act. Why do we not act brother? The terms Jon Arryn has given us are weak and pathetic.” Oberyn protested.

“Daeron Targaryen is but a boy who has not a chance in the seven hells in regaining his throne if he thinks that is what he means to do. We must wait and bide our time, and when the moment is right we shall have our revenge.” Doran says calmly.

“What do you mean brother?” Oberyn asks intrigued.

His brother takes a sip of wine and then says. “There are plans being put in place even now to ensure we get our justice.”

“Plans? What plans? How are these plans being made?” Oberyn asked.

“Despite what you and many others think Oberyn, I am still doing what I can to ensure our family has its interests looked after. And though I might be considering Jon Arryn’s terms it is perhaps best if he thinks that we are doing what the crown wants and not what we are actually doing.” His brother replies.

“I, I do not understand what you mean brother.” Oberyn says.

Doran sighs. “Nor shall you. As long as Jon Arryn remains a guest in Sunspear we shall remain as we are now. And let him go back to court and report disunity in the court here. Let Robert Baratheon think he can play on that.”

Oberyn is confused, whenever there were arguments between their mother and father, they would always try and band together for outsider’s perspective. “I, do not understand brother. Why would you want us to appear weak?”

“Once more brother, that is something that you shall learn only when Jon Arryn has left Sunspear and not before.” Doran says and that brings an end to their meeting.

And so it is with this state of confusion that Oberyn stays and listens as his brother plays court to Jon Arryn, Hand of the King to the usurper, and tries to hold his breathe and tongue against the countless wrongs that they are being dealt. When it finally comes to the final meeting, Oberyn is once more present. “My Lord Hand,” Doran begins. “After much thought and deliberation, it is with great pleasure I announce my happiness at accepting the peace terms with which King Robert has set before us. I hope that we can go about our business in a kind and friendly manner from now on.”

Oberyn grits his teeth as Jon Arryn says. “I am most pleased to hear that my prince. After all the rumours that reached us King’s Landing, you can understand why his grace felt anxious to quell such rumours once and for all. He desires nothing but peace and happiness for all now that the war is done.”

“Quite.” Doran says.

The negotiations done, they drink and feast well into the night. It is during the course of this night, that Oberyn leaves the company of his paramour and love Ellaria and goes to seek out the Daynes of Starfall. One of the few families in Dorne to have been so close to the Targaryens and so badly affected by their madness, as well as close kin to Oberyn and his brother. He sees his cousin Lord Alric Dayne standing on a balcony looking lost and says. “What’s the matter cousin? You look like Doran usually does now.”

Normally his cousin would laugh at that but now he merely turns and says. “That is because I finally understand what it is to rule and lose the ones you love because of it.”

Oberyn feels something inside of him sink then. “No word on Ashara then?”

“No, not since that day Eddard Stark came and left Dawn with us. She was not the same after that and then she just left without a word. Ullrick has not been able to find anything. And my mother despairs of ever seeing her again.” Alric responds.

“She can’t have just disappeared. Even to get on a ship as some say, she would need to have gone to Plankytown and I promise you had we heard anything about it we would have let you know. She must be somewhere near.” Oberyn tried to reassure his cousin.

“Grandmother believes that she might be hostage of the High Hermitage lot. But they deny everything.” Alric said.

Oberyn shuddered at the thought, the High Hermitage Daynes were notorious in Dorne for their cruelty and their greed. And these current bunch were no better. As to his grandmother, Rhae Targaryen had been a Princess of the Blood once, and now, now she was still as fierce as she had been at five and ten when she had wed his grandfather the former Lord Ullwyck Dayne. “Well we must look into this in a deeper fashion cousin. We cannot trust Ser Garin and Ser Gerold. They are two of the biggest crooks Dorne has ever seen.”

“I know that Oberyn I truly do. But until Alynna has borne me an heir I cannot do anything but pray that Ashara will be safe and she will know that she can come back home no matter what wrong she has done. Until then I can do nothing, and that, that is killing me.” Alric said.

“I can look for her cousin. Doran does not trust me with his plots and plans. I have nothing more to do now that the war is done. I can scour Dorne for her.” Oberyn said.

His cousin looks at him something funny and then says. “I do think that you might be unable to do that Oberyn. After all you are Doran’s brother and in times of trouble, it is only family we can count on.”

His cousin turns and walks inside at that, and leaves Oberyn to stand on the balcony for some more time as the night roars on, and he remains out there thinking about life, about his mother dead for five years now, about father dead for ten, about his own grandfather whom he barely knew but whom Doran knows all the stories about. And most of all he thinks of Elia, of her laugh, her smile and her way with words and quiet strength. His anger at Rhaegar grows at that, his carelessness and how he threw everything away to be with a mere child who did not even survive the mere task he had given her. The cost of that all will be felt for years to come, and that in itself makes Oberyn more than angry.

At some point in the night, he must have walked back to his and Ellaria’s chambers though he has no recollection of doing so. In the morning he wakes, dresses and then goes to see Jon Arryn off, and once the man and his party had gone a safe distance towards Plankytown, Doran summons him to his solar and says. “You accused me yesterday of not caring about Elia and her children. I will say this now, you have never been more wrong. When news reached us of her death, I wanted to ride to King’s Landing myself and kill her killers with my bare hands, but I am not strong nor am I a fighter. Instead I must plot and work to undermine Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister.”

“How will you do that brother? You, yourself admitted yesterday that they are too strong for you to challenge.” Oberyn asks.

“There are other ways to undermine people then with just brute force Oberyn. We have our allies at court and in amongst the seeds of the Lannisters and Baratheons there are those who hunger for more glory and gain. It is to those men and women we shall turn our attention to. They will work from the inside to cause disunity and chaos amongst the alliance that put Robert Baratheon on the throne. And when the time is right, Daeron Targaryen shall come back and reclaim what was taken from him, and Dorne shall stand beside him.” Doran replied.

“How do we know he is not as mad as his brother was?” Oberyn asks.

His brother smiled. “Because I have my spies in amongst his company. How do you think he got to Braavos? Dornish people work for the King now and give me reports on how smart he is and what he is like. Soon enough you shall go to Braavos and will treat with him, under the guise of meeting with the Sealord.”

“What? Why will I be going to Braavos? Why should I go and treat with the Targaryens?” Oberyn asked.

“Because, it is your duty as a son of Dorne, to ensure that our allies are well looked after and that they know whom their allies are. These are dangerous times Oberyn, there are few whom we can trust, and fewer the Targaryens can trust. But if we work together and work towards the same goals, we shall be night unstoppable. And besides, there is a marriage pact that must be witnessed.” Doran responds.

“A marriage pact?” Oberyn asked. “You would wed one of Dorne to those dragons?”

“Aye, our support comes at a cost, as any self-respecting lord knows. Daeron Targaryen wants our support, he shall make Arianne a queen and make up for how his brother treated our sister.” Doran says simply.


	8. The Old Queen

**Twelfth Month of 284 A.C. Braavos**

**Queen Dowager Rhaella Targaryen**

Braavos was warm in winter, there was a nice breeze that took away some of the humidity and as they were in one of the houses near Ragman’s Harbour it was all the better. There was a certain sense of peace that Rhaella got from living in Braavos that she had never known in King’s Landing, at least not whilst she was Queen. The hustle and bustle of a big city was still there, but the intrigues and the corruption that so dogged her family’s home in Westeros, was something she was not a part of here in Braavos. Instead she used her home here, as a chance to raise her children properly and also begin planning for when her son would reclaim what was stolen from him.

Her children, gods, her children were all so different from one another. Daeron her eldest son now that Rhaegar was dead, was a good lad, strong and smart, but withdrawn and quiet as well. He rarely said much at all when they would all sit down and speak about their day, a complete contrast to Aegon. Aegon her second eldest son who had just turned twelve was full of life, a charmer he had already managed to win over many of the servants that were present here in Willam’s house, he reminded her somewhat of her uncle Duncan with his way with words. Jaehaerys, her third son was just ten years old and was often trailing behind Daeron and Aegon wishing with all his might to be like them. Viserys was much the same, and Dany, well Daenerys was but a babe yet still in swaddling. And then there were the thoughts she had about her eldest son, who was no longer here Rhaegar. Her silver child, her firstborn who they had all hoped so much for, and who had died before he could live up to it.

She shook her head then, it would do no good to dwell on the past, not with Prince Oberyn Martell here. “Prince Oberyn I trust your brother filled you in on why you are here?” Rhaella asked.

The man known as the Red Viper nodded. “Aye, I am here to oversee the signing of the betrothal agreement between King Daeron and my niece Arianne. In return for that, when you land your armies Dorne shall give you her armies and help in the fight to reclaim the Iron Throne.”

“And we shall get justice for Elia and her children as well my prince. You may rest assured of that, we do not forget the treason that the Lannisters were allowed to carry out. Tywin shall get his just deserts when my son comes to the throne.” Rhaella said.

Prince Oberyn nodded and then asked. “And what of his grace. I had thought he would be here to witness the signing of the agreement. I have been told he is very much a person who likes to know exactly what is happening.”

Silent for a moment as she debated how best to answer this question, before deciding on merely telling the truth. “My son is out at the moment. He is away helping protect the Sealord’s daughter and as such that is a job that requires his full attention.”

“The future king of Westeros, guarding a mere merchant’s daughter? An interesting turn of events do you not think Your Grace?” Prince Oberyn asks.

“King Daeron believes that in order to truly learn discipline and true patience, he must know how the nobles in the world live. And I am inclined to agree with him. Growing up in the Red Keep as a member of the blood, can be quite a bubble. There are no realities, on lies and things we wish to see. This will help him see through that.” Rhaella responds.

Prince Oberyn said nothing for a moment and then he said. “Very well. So long as His Grace knows to stay true to his betrothed, then perhaps we shall not have a problem. Regardless, is there aught else that must needs be discussed before we sign this treaty?”

Rhaella held back a retort and merely asked. “Why are you in such a rush my prince? I thought you might wish to stay and tarry a while?”

Prince Oberyn is silent for a long time and then finally he says. “I have other business that I must attend to. But for now, is there anything else within the agreement that you find curious or not?”

Rhaella looked at the document once very quickly and then shook her head. “No there is nothing else that I wish to discuss about the agreement. Shall we sign it then?”

Prince Oberyn nods, and so Rhaella calls in Ser Willam and the Sealord of Braavos, and together they sign the document. Once that is done, Rhaella hands a copy over to Ser Willam who reads aloud. “Let it be known that on this day, a contract was agreed, a betrothal between His Grace King Daeron Targaryen third of his name and Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell, to be turned into marriage when King Daeron lands in Sunspear. In exchange for this, the spears and swords of Dorne shall be the king’s and the armies shall march for King’s Landing to retake the Iron Throne.”

That done, Prince Oberyn takes a copy of the agreement and says. “Thank you for this My Queen. You shall not regret allying with Dorne. We shall help you reclaim what was taken from you, and we shall get justice for Elia and her children. No matter how long it takes we shall do this.”

Rhaella nods and says. “I know. And I do swear, that once this is done, they shall all know the meanings of Fire and Blood.”

With that Prince Oberyn takes his leave, stalking out of the room and the house quietly, and soon enough when Rhaella receives word that he has left for the docks she nods and then calls for the septa to come and speak with her. “Did you hear all that was said my lady?” Rhaella asked.

“Indeed I did Your Grace. Oberyn still harbours doubts about whether this move that his brother made was the right one or not.” The septa replied.

“And what do you think? Do you think Dorne are right to support us?” Rhaella asked genuinely interested.

The septa was silent a moment and then she said. “I believe so. King Daeron is strong and a good man, he is level headed. And I do not think he will make too many mistakes as he listens to you.”

Rhaella sighs then. “So did Rhaegar before he fell afoul of his own desires.”

The Septa took her hands then and said. “My Queen, what Rhaegar did was of his own desire and doing. You could not have known how he would let the prophecy and everything else get on top of him. He would have been a good king, perhaps even a great one, but he is dead now. What is done is done. We cannot live in the past.”

Rhaella looked at her and smiled sadly. “When did you become so wise? I remember when you came with Elia you were so bold and brash. Half the court was taken with your beauty and the other half were charmed by you. How did you become so wise all of a sudden?”

“I learnt what it was to lose a child my queen. And I learnt what it was to lose the man I loved. I had to become wise if I wanted to help protect the children and my family.” The septa replied.

Rhaella took the lady’s hands and said. “You are not alone now though. We are your family, and one day soon you shall be reunited with your brother and sister and nephew. I promise you that. And soon enough they shall understand why you did what you did.”

“I do not know. Alric has never been the forgiving type. And I… I do not know anymore.” She replied.

“Trust me, they will understand. Robert Baratheon will be watching them, and he knows that you were close to Elia and Rhaegar. He will be watching them to see if you will contact them. For the time being you must play as if you are not around and soon enough Baratheon will forget.” Rhaella said.

“How… How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because Ashara, I know the Baratheons, out of all of them only Ormund and Steffon were ever worth anything. The rest were all blind fools who barged about in a hot rage. Robert Baratheon is just like them, and we have our allies at court as well.” Rhaella replied.

Ashara nods and then asks. “And what of my son? What of the child that Ned took from me?”

There never was a child Rhaella wants to say, instead she merely says. “You will see him again I promise you.”

Their conversation ends when Ser Gerold enters the room and says. “The King wishes to speak with you both.”

They both stand and walk to where Daeron usually holds such meetings, her son looks worn and tired. Ashara goes and stands beside him and runs her hands soothingly through his hair, Rhaella says nothing on that and waits for her son to speak. “Did you sign the betrothal agreement?” Daeron asks, his voice sounding low.

“Yes Your Grace I did.” Rhaella said. “And Prince Oberyn seemed very happy with all that was set before us.”

Daeron nods and then asks. “And what other news is there for us to discuss?”

“The Sealord told me before the meeting that it appears Robert Baratheon has put out a call on your head and those of your brothers. Some might be making their way towards his palace.” Rhaella said calmly.

Her son looks at her then and says. “And none know that we are here truly?”

Rhaella nods. “Yes Your Grace. Ser Willam assures me that no one would know where we are unless you want them to know. The Sealord is an old friend of his and as such will not betray his trust.”

“Very well then. We have nought to worry about. Let the usurper put prices on our heads, so long as I keep my head down and do what I must, then he will never be any wiser.” Her son replies.

Rhaella sighs and says. “Guarding the Sealord’s daughter, why is that so important to you? Are you sleeping with her that you must remain by her side constantly?”

Ashara’s hands stop in her son’s hair, and Daeron glares at her. “I am not doing anything with the man’s daughter. I am merely doing a job to ensure that there is money coming into to provide for this family mother.”

Rhaella is silent and then says. “Ashara would you mind leaving us? I have a few matters to discuss with my son.” Ashara nods, curtseys and then leaves. Once she is gone Rhaella looks at her son and then says. “Staying on at the Sealord’s palace is dangerous and foolish. The man might be loyal but his servants are not. Soon enough word will get back to Robert Baratheon and then we are all dead. You must end this foolishness Daeron.”

“And how will we pay for our way through this damned city then?” her son asks stubbornly.

“Ser Willam and Ser Gerold are trained men who know how to become silent and unseen. They can blend in, you cannot.” Rhaella says patiently.

“They are not me. They are not the leader of this family, I am. I have a duty to provide for my siblings and for you. And I shall do so.” Her son argued back.

“And if this duty comes at the expense of your life?” Rhaella asks.

“Then so be it. So long as you all continue to have a roof over your heads, then it is worth the sacrifice.” Her son replies grimly.

Rhaella knows not what to say, and so is thankful when her husband walks in and says. “We a have a visitor, from Westeros.”


	9. Woe Of The Hand

****

**Fourth Month of 285 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Jon Arryn**

King’s Landing had always been a pit of vipers, Jon’s father Lord Jasper Arryn had been fond of saying that and now that he was hand of the king Jon had to agree. There was always someone scheming and plotting to get something that they thought would advance themselves in the court, the people here were all cutthroats and rogues. Jon despaired at their lack of honour and worried about countless other things as well. Lyanna Stark’s death in Dorne two years ago seemed to have broken Robert, he never laughed as much as he used to and he spent his days drinking and whoring. Though for all of that there was still no heir, no prince or Princess to continue on the bloodline. It was worrying, Cersei Lannister remained without child and the whispers grew as the Targaryens across the narrow sea grew in strength. War would be coming and sooner than Jon had thought.

Especially if what Varys had to say was as troubling as he had hinted at, even Robert had emerged from wherever he had been sleeping the night before to attend. The king looked hung over and tired and it showed when he said. “Well, Varys we are all here. Waiting to hear what this drastic news is that you have to bring us that it could not wait till a more respectable time.”

The eunuch was silent a moment and then he said softly. “My informants have told me that the Targaryen party is moving from Braavos.”

At this all eyes turned to the eunuch and Robert asked. “Oh and where do your sources say that they are going and what is the reason for them leaving Braavos?”

The eunuch smiled slightly. “They are leaving because the Sealord has been pressured into forcing them to go. The embargo you placed on trade with them has hindered their economy somewhat, and as such the traders in Braavos have pressured the Sealord to let his friends go. As to where they are going, well Rhaella Targaryen and her youngest two children are going towards Pentos. Whilst Daeron Targaryen and his two eldest brothers have separated. Where they are going none of my sources have been able to tell.”

At this Robert looks more and more intrigued. “So the Dragonspawn is separating now is it? This is good, very, very good.”

“Aye, it is indeed Your Grace.” Lord Butterwell the old master of laws says. “Sooner or later they were bound to make a mistake.”

“Or they could be heading to Dorne where there are still strong Targaryen sympathisers still.” The king’s brother Stannis says. “After all it was not so long ago that Prince Oberyn was calling out for Dorne to rally behind the pretender’s banner.”

At this Robert’s eyes narrow. “If those vipers are harbouring the Targaryens I will personally go and find them and crush them. I will not have that dragonspawn in my kingdom.”

Jon tries to ignore the urge that Robert’s own claim comes from his Targaryen grandmother and says. “That would not be wise. Dorne has signed a peace treaty, they promised not to have anything more to do with the Targaryens. They want war as much as we do, that is to say not at all.”

“Still there might be a chance that they are in Dorne. Or they might be heading towards Lorath, after all they have family there.” Lord Butterwell says.

“Maegor Targaryen’s line is about as likely to welcome them to their home as we are. Right now they are alone and exiled. Nothing and no one wants them.” Lord Devon Grandison says. “Perhaps raising the price on the pretender’s head might encourage some of the Essosi to consider bringing him in.”

“And how has the pricing bid on his head worked so far?” Robert asks his eyes glinting madly.

“So far we have had two false reports and one confirmed sighting of the pretender at the Sealord’s house, guarding the Sealord’s daughter. Since that last report nothing.” Lord Grandison says.

Robert is silent for a long time and then he says. “I want a way to end this boy’s threat to my throne once and for all. But of course if you kill him there are more than one of his siblings left. I want them all in one place so I can kill them one at a time.”

Jon senses the anger and the violence in Robert that sometimes bring about a kind of madness in him, he looks at the king’s brother and then says slowly. “What are you suggesting Your Grace?”

Robert turns to look at him and says slowly and with great pleasure. “I am saying we lure them into a trap as I did at the Stoney Sept. And then when the boy and his family are all there, we slaughter them. Leaving not one of them behind. One by one we kill them and one by one we watch them die.”

“Even the girl? Daenerys she is naught but a babe.” Jon says.

“She is dragonspawn. The sister of that raper Rhaegar, and that mad man Aerys. She should die and thus end her line once and for all. Which could have happened had Dragonstone fallen properly.” The king says glaring at his brother.

Jon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Killing the boys I can understand. But the girl? Your Grace, killing the girl will ruin your reputation with the lords and the smallfolk. And besides, once an heir is born to you, you can finally soothe the Targaryen loyalists and have your heir wed Daenerys Targaryen.”

Robert erupts at this. “I WILL NEVER HAVE MY SON WED THAT DRAGONSPAWN. Never, do you hear me? Never. I will not taint my bloodline with the filth that comes from incest and dragonspawn. Let Daenerys Targaryen die, any who oppose my choices shall by met by my Warhammer, and I will end them just as I ended their precious silver prince.”

“Peace Your Grace. I did not mean to offend.” Jon says raising his hands placating. “If you mean to go through with this, then it might as well be done properly.”

“The faceless men could be an option. After all now that things will begin as normal for trade Braavos should be more than willing.” Lord Butterwell says.

“They are far too expensive. Winter has not ended yet, and we do not yet have the resources to pull together such an expensive outing.” Lord Grandison says.

“Perhaps looking towards Casterly Rock might be a good idea. After all, Lord Tywin would be more than happy in removing a threat to his grandchildren.” Pycelle says.

“Hmm perhaps that might be a good idea. And it would save the treasury funds for later missions should the need arise.” Lord Grandison said.

Stannis Baratheon spoke up then. “Allowing the throne to become in the Rock’s debt is a bad thing. As it is for allowing the throne to get into any lord’s debt. It would make us look weak and make us look like easy pickings. Something Targaryens and their allies will make sure to use.”

Jon sees the king’s eyes grow hard at that. “I do not care about that, Aerys Targaryen allowed the Lannisters to pay off their debts to the iron throne. And he fell. The Targaryens have not a leg to stand one when it comes to debts and such. Send word to Lannister, Pycelle and tell him that he owes his king a duty. I want the money here by the end of the moon.”

“And what will you use the money for Your Grace?” Jon asks.

“Why to hire some of the best assassins in the business. The faceless men might be beyond the crown’s reach, but they are not beyond my goodfather’s. Let Tywin Lannister prove his loyalty to the crown by paying for the deaths of his old friends children and then we shall see how true he is.” Robert says with savage pleasure.

Jon feels something bad about this begin to coil in his belly, but he says nothing and merely nods. Soon enough, Robert slips away from the council meeting no doubt intent on fucking some whore or the other. And Jon stays and listens to all else. “The Velaryon fleet was sighted some two miles from the coast of Dragonstone some two days ago.” Stannis Baratheon says. “Lord Laenor Velaryon assures me that he is not taking part in his uncle’s treason, but as to the reliability of that I know not. I have ordered the Driftmark watched day and night and its ships searched.”

“A clever move my lord Stannis,” the eunuch titters. “After all who knows what dangers could lurk in the Driftmark that house that was once so staunch in its support of the Targaryens.”

Jon’s eyes narrow and he asks. “What do you know spider?”

The eunuch tittered slightly and said. “I only know what my little birds tell me and what they tell me I have shared with the council. Lucerys Velaryon continues to remain steadfastly loyal to the Targaryens, but as to where he has gone, whether with the king or the queen dowager, I know not.”

“Then find out and bring the man and his son in. He could be used as leverage to discover more of what Laenor Velaryon is planning.” Jon said sharply.

“Of course my lord hand.” The eunuch says.

“Now what more news is there?” Jon asks.

Pycelle speaks then. “The citadel sent a raven today. It seems that winter will be ending not for another three years. We are stuck in the sequence once more.”

Jon nods and then turns to Lord Stannis and asks. “And what of the shipping, how does that go my lord?”

“It goes as well as it can during winter my lord.” The king’s brother replies. “More ships are being built and more are going out on trading missions. Though the blockages in the Stepstones are becoming a problem. It appears the pirates of the stones do not wish for much leave to happen.”

Jon nods. “Aye, having written and communicated with the former three daughters it does seem as though this is becoming a problem with them as well. Trade might needs to give way to war.”

“No doubt his grace will be happy about that.” Lord Butterwell jests.

Jon sighs and turns to Varys asking. “What information do you have on the pirates in the Stepstones Lord Varys?”

“Nothing of note that my lord hand has not already mentioned in previous council meetings. Though they are growing in numbers and there are rumours that Valerion Dracaerys the King of the Basilisk Isles could be sailing out with his men to join them.” The eunuch says.

At the mention of the man’s name Jon feels a chill go up his arms. “The man has not left his isles since conquering them. What reason could he have for leaving them now?”

“Promises of gold and power. And Westeros. The man hungers for something more than just the dreary isles of the Stepstones. He wants a throne.” Varys responds.

Jon looks at Lord Stannis then and says. “I want the royal fleet patrolling the waters from now on. No ship gets in or out of King’s Landing without royal leave. We cannot be too careful.”

“It shall be done my lord.” Stannis says.

Jon nods and then dismisses the council meeting. Later when he has retired to his chambers in the tower of the hand, he sits in relative silence eating dinner with his wife Lysa, when she suddenly speaks. “I have some very important news to tell you my lord.”

“Oh? And what is that my lady?” Jon asks.

“I do believe I am with child my lord.” Lysa says her voice hesitant.

Jon begins feeling hope bloom in his chest. “Are you certain my lady?” he asks not daring to hope.

“I am my lord. I have not bled for three moons now. I am certain that this time it could be a true reality.” Lysa says smiling now.

Jon smiles as well. “Then we must check with Pycelle first just to make absolutely sure. But this is wonderful news my lady.”


	10. Hard Decisions

**Seventh Month of 285 A.C. Braavos**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

They remained in Braavos, despite the ever growing threats of the usurper finding them, they remained in Braavos. The Sealord and his first sword as well as the numerous spies and informants within the city had all informed Daeron and reassured him that they would not allow Robert Baratheon to find out just where he and his family were hiding. A visit from the eunuch Varys has confirmed this as well, the eunuch had said that the usurper’s spies were growing warmer towards their trail, and that a plan had been devised to throw them off said trail, what that plan was Daeron knew not but all he knew was that sooner or later he would have to leave Braavos and their house and draw off the spies and assassins himself. He would not put his family in danger, that would break his duty to them and the love he bore them would not allow it.

Right now though, such thoughts were not the prime concern. The questioning of his brother’s former squire was. Ser Richard Lonmouth had turned up at their doorstep with a note from the eunuch and a promise of information. “House Lonmouth fought for the usurper during the rebellion did they not Ser Richard?” Daeron asks.

“My father and brothers did aye.” Ser Richard responds.

“So how do I know I can trust you? And that you are not just some spy sent over to report to the usurper on my every move?” he asks.

“I served your brother loyally as his squire and fought and bled alongside him at the Trident. I have spent the past two years serving in my father’s castle as a hostage, trying to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Lord Varys has vouched for me, I have done my part in the Stormlands to ready it for your return.” Lonmouth responds.

Daeron stands stock still and then says. “The spider plays his own games. Whether I can trust him or not is another matter. But the question is why have you come just now then? Why not come to Dragonstone when Rhaegar fell?”

“As I have said to you before, I was kept under heavy watch and was released only after my father’ had paid a heavy fine to the usurper. I promise you me and my family are Targaryen men through and through. We wait your return, and I am here to ensure that it happens.” Ser Richard said honestly.

Intrigued, Daeron asked. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“If you allow it Your Grace, I would like to fight by your side and help you plan your battles. I would help you guard your family and the Sealord’s daughter. Such things I would help do, and my father and brother are meeting with Lords Cafferen, Grandison and Fell to discuss working to destabilise the Stormlands. Renly Baratheon is but a boy, his castellan is family of mine. It can be done.” Lonmouth says.

Daeron looks at the man for a long moment, assessing everything he has said before he says. “Then get down on one knee and swear it. Before the seven, the old gods and the Moonsingers, swear it now. Ser Gerold shall witness this, and if you break your vow in any way I shall cut your head off myself.”

He expects the man to protest, to say that this is too much of a demand. He is pleasantly surprised then when Ser Richard Lonmouth, the Knight of Skulls gets down on one knee and says. “I, Ser Richard of the House Lonmouth, third born son of Lord Ellard and Lady Daria Lonmouth, do hereby swear to you King Daeron Targaryen third of your name, rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, that from this day to my last, I shall be your ever faithful servant and will do as you command of me no matter the personal cost. My head as your leverage.”

Daeron smiles one of his rare smiles then and says. “Arise Ser Richard. And tell me what you know of the situation in Westeros.”

Ser Richard nods and then says. “As I am sure you are aware, the seven kingdoms are facing a blight as a pirate alliance has formed and is beginning to raid and capture various islands in the Stepstones. And the most infamous one of fall Valerion Dracaerys has set his ships towards the coast of the Stormlands. The Stormlords are torn between fighting under their king and fighting to break the pirate king on their own shores.”

“And which do you think they will do?” Daeron asks.

The knight of skulls hesitates for a moment and then says. “I do believe they will follow the usurper. Where he goes they will go. The man I do believe is sending his brother Stannis to deal with the pirate alliance in the Stepstones, and has considered fighting in the Stormlands.”

Daeron nods, and then turns to Ser Gerold. “Send word to Lord Lucerys, have him send out feelers to this pirate alliance. I do believe it is time the usurper got a little taste of that is to come.”

Ser Gerold nods, and Ser Richard continues. “I also know that people are beginning to whisper about the lack of an heir for the King. Whilst some see Stannis Baratheon as the king’s heir now, give his place as Lord of Dragonstone, others believe that until a son is born of the usurper’s loins he might very well be weak.”

“What are you suggesting? That I attack Westeros now?” Daeron asks.

“No, Your Grace. To do that, would be tantamount to suicide. Robert Baratheon still has the hold on the alliance that won him the throne. However, if the man were to die during the fighting with the pirates, and his brother were to succeed him, then things might go better.” Ser Richard said.

“So a payment might need to be made then? Is that what you are suggesting?” Daeron asks.

“Yes Your Grace. Remove Robert Baratheon from the equation, and Stannis Baratheon becomes king. That will make it far easier to destabilise the realm.” Ser Richard says.

Daeron nods and then turns to Ser Gerold. “See it done.” Turning back to Ser Richard he says. “I thank you for this information ser. You may take your leave now, one of the servants shall see you to your room. Ser Gerold send for my mother and Ser Willam.”

Ser Gerold nods and then a few moments later, his mother and step father enter the room. “You asked for us Your Grace?” Ser Willam ever polite asks.

“Indeed I did. Sit down both of you.” Daeron says. Once they are both sat down he says. “I have accepted Ser Richard Lonmouth into my service. Whilst I doubt his loyalty somewhat, I am willing to give him a chance to prove it to me. He has already given me some very useful information. It appears the pirates are attacking the Stepstones and the Stormlands. The usurper is more than likely to march for the Stormlands against Valerion Dracaerys, if we can get one of our men into the man’s party and have him kill Baratheon, his brother Stannis will become king, and then the destabilization can continue.”

“And what if the man has a son by his Lannister wife? What will you do then?” his mother asks.

Daeron sighs and then says. “I will do whatever is necessary. Lord Varys has already shown how loyal he is by warning us of the plots against us. Soon enough I shall need to call on him to act. And besides, Lord Lucerys is aching for some action, I do believe this fight might be worth that.”

“I still believe you are placing too much trust in the spider and Velaryon. Both of them caused your father nothing but grief. And as such I still believe they are working for an alternative angle.” His mother says.

“Both men have proved their loyalty in the years since we fled Dragonstone mother. Varys warned us of the Baratheon plot, Velaryon keeps ships and trades with other free cities to fill our coffers. His cousin is playing Baratheon blind. We must needs repay them somehow.” Daeron counters.

“A sword through the bowels would serve Velaryon well enough. His son Ser Monford his more of a man than his father. And as such the eunuch, you should never trust one. They have all kinds of wants and needs.” Ser Willam says.

“And there is also this issue of whether or not Varys is being truthful when he said he would try and divert the usurper’s attention. How else would the man have learnt of our presence here, if not for the eunuch? No matter what he says, those spies he spoke of are his own spies.” His mother says.

“Well I have decided that, we shall not remain in Braavos. It has become too risky to allow such a thing to continue. The usurper thinks that we are heading in separate directions, if the eunuch was true to his word, the usurper thinks we are heading towards Lorath. You all shall head to Pentos, to Illyrio Mopatis’s manse and stay there. Myself and Aegon shall go and find work.” Daeron says.

“Why are you and Aegon heading north? You will be in greater danger by yourselves than with the rest of the family.” His mother argues.

Daeron grits his teeth and says. “Because I am the head of this family, and Aegon is my heir. We need to learn how to fight, it will be no good being green boys when the war comes. We shall find work in one of the sellsword companies and work our way up from there.”

“And you will be at greater risk in the sellsword companies than with us in Pentos. There you will be more apt to die in some silly battle. Come with us sweetling.” His mother says pleadingly.

“No, I shall not do that. I am to be king, I must act like one. I must fight and learn my craft, only then can I be sure in knowing that I will be secure in leading armies. Otherwise nothing is to be done.” Daeron says.

His mother sighs then and asks. “When do you leave then? You are a man grown now, I hold no power over you.”

Daeron is taken aback by this response by his mother, expecting more of a fight. Trying to keep hold of his tone he says. “We shall leave on the morrow. I, Aegon and Ser Richard shall ride out. The man knows not of this, but there is only one way for him to prove his loyalty to me now and that is in battle. Ser Gerold shall remain behind to guard you all.”

His mother nods and then asks. “Which company will you join?”

“The Golden Company. It is the best and most proficient company out there.” Daeron says.

His mother looks at him as though he has gone mad. “They will not support you sweetling. You are a Targaryen, they have always supported the Blackfyres and besides, a Bittersteel commands them now. The Second Sons are your best bet.”

Daeron is about to argue the point, when one of the nursemaids comes in and says. “Pardons Your Graces, but Princess Daenerys was asking after her mother.”

“Go mother, see to Daenerys. Ser Willam you too may go. Speak with Ser Gerold and learn what you can about this Mopatis character.” Daeron says. Ser Willam nods, and once the man leaves, Daeron sits down takes a sip of wine and then sits there thinking for the longest time.

He brews over all that his mother has said, and all that is still to come. He must have been sat there for quite some time, for he soon feels a pressure on his shoulders and hears. “You look pensive my king. What is the matter?” Ashara, his lover asks.

Daeron says. “Come in front of me my lady. I cannot see you.” The minute Ashara stands before him, he feels his cock begin to harden but he keeps his control. He pulls her to him and whispers into her hair. “I am nervous, I leave for Lys on the morrow and soon enough the rest of the world will know. I am nervous.”

“Then let me ease your nerves my king.” His lover says, and soon enough they are lost in one another’s touch and feel.

The next morning Daeron and his brother Aegon say goodbye to their family and begin the journey to Lys and the next step in their lives. Now he truly is becoming the Sellsword King.


	11. A Stag At Sea

**Tenth Month of 285 A.C. The Narrow Sea**

**Lord Stannis Baratheon**

A war, two years since the rebellion had ended, and here they were at war again. Though Stannis supposed they were not truly at war not properly. An alliance of pirates led by one Saaladhor Saan had formed together in the straits of the world and had come together with one mission to take the Stepstones. Normally this would be the work of the free cities, but they were all too busy fighting one another over land or some such mediocre thing. Initially Robert was not going to bother doing anything, but then when word reached them that Valerion Dracaerys the infamous and most feared pirate king of all was setting sail and had in fact taken Tarth and put it to the sword, that was when Robert’s wrath had been invoked. And this was the reason Stannis had manned the royal fleet and they were setting sail for Tarth they just had to get past the bloody pirates first.

There were other things that being at sea gave Stannis to think about. Life at court was hell, all the intrigues and fools and flatterers trying to worm their way into Robert’s good books by giving him their daughters and their wine and their food. Stannis was surprised there weren’t more bastards roaming around King’s Landing. And then there were the Lannisters, golden haired menaces clawing their way into the Red Keep and court, filling the king’s ear with poison and sweet talk. He was sure it was the Lannister woman who had convinced Robert to give Storm’s End to Renly and Dragonstone to Stannis, why else would his brother be so foolish as to ignore the work and the right for Stannis to hold their ancestral seat. So many grievances and not enough time to address them just now.

“My lord, the enemy has been sighted 2 miles south of our current position.” His squire Ser Andrew Estermont says.

Stannis nods and then says. “Send for Lord Laenor Velaryon.”

Andrew nods and then walks away returning a few moments later with the lord of the Driftmark. A snivelling man who Stannis distrusts entirely. “Lord Laenor, what reports do your men have of the enemy?”

The man is silent for a long time before he finally says. “They hold some 50 war ships and that number is growing in counting, as they take trade ships. Soon enough their numbers will match our own.”

“And what of their commander? Is this Pirate King Saan here?” Stannis asks.

“I… I know not my lord.” Lord Laenor says.

Stannis grits his teeth then. “And what of your cousin the traitor Lucerys? He has made his living as a sell sail now has he not? Will he be here for the battle? I am sure you two still keep in touch no?”

The man begins stuttering and stammering. “My lord…. I would never keep in contact with a traitor. My cousin has broken his ties with my family. And we have broken our ties with him.”

“And yet you were hesitant to bring your modest fleet to the king’s aid when he called for his loyal lords to do him service. Why would you be hesitant unless you knew something?” Stannis asks.

Lord Laenor has no answer for that except to say. “My cousin was a lickspittle who did what he could to gain favour and power in Aerys court. He has always been a grasping man. I know not whether he will be here, but if he is, I promise you it will be me who kills him.”

Stannis snorts at that. “And become a kinslayer? I highly doubt it. You Velaryons have too much pride and honour to allow for that. Now leave me before I begin questioning you again.”

Velaryon nods and bows out, and soon enough his squire returns. “A message from Ser Davos my lord. It would appear that the pirate alliance is moving quicker than they had first thought. Battle has engaged on the right side. And there are likely to be more ships coming in from the left.”

Stannis curses under his breath and says. “Summon Lord Celtigar I would hear his views on this matter.”

Lord Adrian Celtigar waddles over some five minutes later and asks. “You sent for me, my lord?”

“Yes. You have fought in a number of naval battles my lord. I would know what you think of this new information. Ser Davos reports that the pirate alliance has engaged in fighting with our fleet on the right. He believes there will be fighting on the left soon enough. How soon and with what intensity will the pirates attack do you think?” Stannis asks.

Lord Adrian is an old man, but he has vast seems of knowledge which comes into play now. “I do believe that they will break up into two different parts, and attack us from the right and centre. As they have already attacked the right, they will need to break us on two different fronts. This is clearly a diversion tactic, to slow us down and to figure out where King Robert is. I suggest leading a forward assault and actively searching them out.”

“Would we not just be falling into their trap then my lord?” Stannis asks.

“Yes and no. We would not need to bring the full might of the fleet with us. We could not do that anyway, for the right is under attack. The left and the centre however would be divided into two separate parts. As you have command over the flagship of the fleet take lead of the centre and give command of the left to Velaryon and allow him to serve as a distraction.” Celtigar says.

“Velaryon? Why on earth should I trust that man with such an important task?” Stannis asks incredulously.

“Because that way the man will be doing something important but running right into the storm. Better to see him off and dead, than allow him to commit treason later on in the battle.” Lord Adrian reasons.

Stannis is about to respond when he hears a deckhand shout. “Enemy ships starboard bound. 50 of them.”

Stannis sighs then and says. “I guess we are about to find out the truth behind their strength.”

With that both men part ways, Stannis barks out orders for his armour and for preparations of the battle to come, and sure enough when the first ships begin throwing arrows at them and other such things, he and his men are ready for them. It begins with arrows and rocks being hurled to and throw, Stannis sees enemy ships breaking and being brought down low under the weight of the rocks being thrown at them. Soon enough, when enough ships have been brought down and they are close enough for actual hand to hand combat, Stannis draws his sword out and roars a command.

The enemy descends on them two and three at a time, swinging their swords and their weapons in a mad frenzy, Stannis has never understood the enjoyment his brother and uncle got from battle, and now in this moment he thinks he understands some of it. Swinging his sword, hacking and slashing, cutting, ducking and dodging. Sparks fly as steel clashes on steel, hacking and using all of his strength to do damage to the pirates coming at him as hard as they can, he swings and dents a few men’s armours, killing more and more men as the battle progresses. Seeing the light leave their eyes is an unnerving experience and one that he hopes he never has to live through again and yet he continues swinging his sword, cutting and hacking through men left, right and centre. His sword is covered in blood as he progresses through the masses, the Fury is where he stands, pushing men back with his men and not allowing them to progress further then where they board.

Stannis and his men manage to break through the frenzy and begin the retaliation onto enemy ships. Stannis cuts through a lynseni man and then begins swinging his sword again, losing track of the faces of his opponents. Swinging his sword, hacking and slashing, putting one foot in front of the other becomes more important than remembering the faces of the dead. But the enemy it seems have picked up on what Stannis is about, for they begin ducking around his blows and feinting left, right and centre, attacking him and his men as they progress through the battle and the different ships. He takes a fair few hits as the pirates retaliate, his movements become slower as the battle progresses, his armour stained red with blood and brown with mud. The battle wages on and Stannis knows that one of the two forces will need to break soon enough, or they will not be able to keep fighting.

Stannis eventually comes face to face with a big brute of a man swinging an axe, who with three or four blows manages to knock Stannis to the ground, and just when the killing blow is about to come he blacks out. When he comes to, it is clear that the battle has ended, the sound of swords clashing against one another is no longer there, but the drifting of the sea is also no longer there. He starts when he hears a voice say. “At least you are finally awake now Lord Stannis.”

“Where am I?” Stannis asks, unable to clearly see the person he is talking to.

“Oh you’re on an island, far away from King’s Landing and the battles that brought you here have ended rather badly for your king.” The voice says once more.

“What do you mean? Who are you?” Stannis asks, through the throbbing pain in his head.

“Why my lord, you are in a safe place and that is all you need to know. As to who I am, well surely you must recognise my voice? Then again you were but a child when your father brought you to court last.” The man says. Before a torch is lit and Stannis sees silver hair and violet eyes. “Lucerys Velaryon at your service.”

“I had thought you were turning tricks in the basilisk Isles my lord. What are you doing here?” Stannis asks calmly.

“Why I have come to question you about your brother my lord.” Velaryon says with a smile, before drawing a dagger out of somewhere and advancing towards Stannis. “Now answer me truthfully and I shall not have cause to injure you too much. Answer me wrongly however,” the dagger drags across Stannis’s skin and grits his teeth.

“What do you wish to know?” he asks.

“Where is your brother planning now that the royal fleet is through the straits?” Velaryon asked.

“I do not know.” Stannis says, for truly he doesn’t.

The knife drags across his skin, drawing more blood and he grits his teeth. “I know you are lying Stannis. You are his master of ships, you would know. Now think hard.”

“I know not. All I know is what I was commanded to do. Take the fleet to the Stepstones and defeat Saan.” Stannis says.

“Saan? Your brother was worried about Saan? That man is a glory hunter who wanted the Stepstones so he could go back to Braavos and fuck the Sealord’s daughter. No other reason he is not the true threat.” Velaryon says, and then the dagger drags across Stannis’s skin. “But you knew that didn’t you. Where was your brother intent on going? Tarth?”

Gritting his teeth, Stannis responds. “I know not what my brother was planning on doing. Why are you so interested anyway?”

He can feel the dagger drawing more and more blood from his skin. Velaryon smiles and the smile is slightly mad looking. “Wouldn’t you like to know my lord? An eye for an eye. You tell me and I’ll tell you.”

Stannis grits his teeth. “I am telling you I know not what my brother was planning. Nor would I tell you if I knew.”

Velaryon smiles and this time plunges the dagger into his face when he says. “Wrong answer.”


	12. The Last Queen

**2 nd Month of 286 A.C. Pentos**

**Queen Dowager Rhaella Darry**

Pentos was a shimmering city, filled with life, and all kinds of activity. Unlike Braavos it lacked the air of secrecy and whispers, and as such seemed a much more open place. That might have been because, the magisters dealt openly with a lot of things, the nasty side of ruling that Rhaella had seen all too often in her later years at King’s Landing, were dealt with effectively and openly here. And then there was the presence of some dragon blood in the city. Her great uncle Aerion had sired many a bastard in Lys, and they in turn had flocked to the other free cities to spread the taint, yet how her cousin Steffon had not found them she knew not. She suspected that the spider had been doing his dirty work from King’s Landing.

Illyrio Mopatis was one such kin of hers, and he was a friend of the spider. Though she did not trust the spider, Mopatis had proven himself useful and it was at his manse that Rhaella and her children had come to per Daeron’s orders. Now Rhaella needed to hear what news the cheesemonger had to share with her. “I was told you come bearing good tidings my lord Illyrio? And what good tidings are these?” Rhaella asked.

Mopatis smiled and said. “I have had word from our friend. It appears news of Stannis Baratheon’s capture has finally reached King’s Landing and the king. It appears the king wished to sail straight for where the lord was being kept and sack the place, but calmer heads prevailed and now they are talking of ransoming the king’s brother’s weight in gold.”

This takes Rhaella aback. “I was under the impression that the King and his brother did not hold each other in high regard. Though I suppose having his brother killed by a pirate and a turn cloak could encourage more rebellions. And how much has the king said he would pay?”

The cheesemonger smiles and says. “300 gold dragons for his brother. And another 100 for the return of the ships that were taken off of the coast of the Stepstones.”

Rhaella nods. “So clearly the usurper is desperate for his brother back. No doubt he means to smash the Basilisk Isles now. Tell me what ever did become of Valerion Dracaerys?”

“He was slain at Tarth by the usurper himself my queen. Robert Baratheon it is said took great pleasure in ensuring that Dracaerys suffered before he died. There was even talk of going to the Driftmark and raising it before Lord Laenor returned and offered his pardons.” Mopatis says.

At this Rhaella’s eyes widen. “What did Lord Laenor say?”

“He merely said that his own ships were caught in a blockade employed by the pirates and that he could not reach the king’s brother in time. He did not mention the Driftmark or anything else my queen.” The cheesemonger says placating.

“Baratheon must have thought the Velaryons were involved in this. After all Daeron has not been silent about his involvement with the second sons.” Rhaella says.

“This is true my queen. And yet his grace is but sixteen, the young often go about things more loudly than they would were they older. Robert Baratheon himself is only twenty three, soon enough he will get older and slower. His anger will abate, and that is when we shall strike.” Illyrio says.

Rhaella looks at the cheesemonger then and asks. “Tell me Illyrio how did you and Varys come to know each other truly? Do not tell me the lies that the eunuch has told me. I am not a fool.”

The cheesemonger is clearly taken aback by the directness of her question, and so he is silent for a long time before eventually saying. “I am sure you know Varys came from Lys? Well my wife and Varys were brother and sister. Serra was a beautiful woman in her prime, but she died long before Varys moved to Westeros. I myself only learnt of my true parentage some five years before I met Varys. I had always been good at fighting, it was in my blood.”

“And?” Rhaella prompted.

“I am descended from Bittersteel my queen. My mother was his great granddaughter. She wed into my father’s family to ensure we did not go homeless like the rest of the Blackfyre family did at the end of the ninepenny kings.” Mopatis says.

“And why do you aid my family then?” Rhaella asks.

“Because my queen, my family are all dead. The male line of the Blackfyres died out on the Stepstones. The male line of House Bittersteel died out with my great uncle Daemon some twenty years before that. We do not have the strength to keep fighting such a war. I want a dragon on the throne.” The cheesemonger says.

“And Varys? What of the eunuch?” Rhaella asks.

“Varys, my old friend.” The cheesemonger’s voice sounds fond then. “A bastard of Prince Maegor and Alaenys Blackfyre. He wants to see the dragon restored to Westeros just as much as I do.”

“How do I know to trust you or believe you? You could be lying through your teeth even now.” Rhaella says.

“Because if we were not being truthful, you would already be dead by now and some other would take your place. King Daeron is the key to our plans, you and your other children are not.” Mopatis says.

Slightly unnerved Rhaella changes the topic of conversation. “So, how do things stand in the rest of Essos then my lord?”

“Good. The golden company is moving into position to aid King Daeron when the second sons break. The Tattered Prince is making his way towards Volantis now to deal with the triarchy. Braavos continues to extend loans to the Iron Throne and undermine Robert Baratheon’s hold onto it.” The magister says.

“Your contact in the bank, did he say whether or not the Iron Bank would expect us to repay this mounting debt when Daeron comes to the throne?” Rhaella asks.

“Merchants my queen, they are the ones taking the loans out. It is them who will turn to the crown when they are in need and burden the crown. Not the bank.” The magister replies.

“So they are forcing Robert Baratheon to place himself further into debt? Why would they being do this for us?” Rhaella asks, though she suspects the answer.

“Because they still remember how it was the Lannisters who paid off the last debt the throne had. And they want to show the Lannisters that they are not the only financial power in the world. A nice petty grievance for his grace to use.” The cheesemonger says.

Rhaella is about to respond when a servant comes and says. “My queen, Ser Willam and Ser Gerold have returned.”

Rhaella nods and says to Illyrio. “Until next time my good man.” He bows and leaves. Her husband and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard walk in then, once they are seated she asks. “What news do you bring?”

Her husband speaks first. “The people of Pentos are all speaking about how the usurper killed Valerion Dracaerys in single combat. They say he means to come and rid the free cities of such scroungers as Dracaerys had been in the past. Soon enough they will turn talk to this family.”

“You think they want us gone?” Rhaella asks.

“I think that they want something more from us, than we are currently giving to them. And with the Cheesemonger not exactly being popular with some of the ruling families, I fear they may want more than just payment for their silence.” Ser Willam says.

“So they want a marriage then is that what you are suggesting?” Rhaella asks.

“Yes my queen.” Her husband responds. “The Razak and the Ronadro families are the two most powerful families in Pentos. One of them being married to one of the princes could do us a world of good.”

“Why not give them two sons then?” Rhaella asks. “Wed one son to one family and the other “to the other. It makes the most sense and means their daughters will be princesses.”

“A smart move my queen. And yet would it not be good to have one of the princes available for a betrothal in Westeros?” her husband asks.

“This is true my lord.” Rhaella acknowledges. “Send word to both families and ask them to meet me at Lorenzo’s harbour. We shall discuss things of a more intimate nature there. Now Ser Gerold how goes the recruitment?”

The stoic Lord Commander took a moment to compose his thoughts before saying. “It goes well Your Grace. More and more men flock to the king’s banner. The Velaryons are finally doing their job and promoting the king’s cause. We now have some 100 men under training in the barracks of Dosh Noye. And more look likely to join.”

Rhaella nods. “That is good news Ser. And any news of the king?”

“There has been news Your Grace. It seems Tyrosh and Myr have ceased their fighting for the time present. The disputed lands remain as they were, the King and Prince Aegon shall be returning to Pentos in some moons time.” Ser Gerold says.

“That is good news indeed.” Rhaella says in response. “Has Ser Richard written anything of note?”

Ser Gerold nods. “Indeed he has Your Grace. It would appear that Jon Connington is working for the Golden Company.”

“Jon Connington? The exile? You mean he is still alive?” Rhaella asks.

“Yes Your Grace.” Ser Gerold says. “He spent some time wondering around the free cities unsure of himself, and started serving in the Golden Company two years ago. It seems he has risen quite high quite quickly. He has spoken to Ser Richard as well.”

Rhaella remembers Jon Connington somewhat, a proud and brash young man who followed Rhaegar like a lost puppy. “And what did they speak of?”

“Lord Connington has many regrets it seems, he regrets not dealing with Robert Baratheon when he had the chance at the Stoney Sept. He mourns Prince Rhaegar, and he mourns the fact that he could not convince the Prince otherwise. And he wants to make up for all of his perceived failings, he wishes to fight for the King.” Ser Gerold says.

“That is all well and good, one more solitary man to fight for my son.” Rhaella says somewhat sarcastically. “Can he bring my son an army?”

To her surprise Ser Gerold nods. “He believes he can bring the Golden Company onside. Ser Myles Toyne is the new captain general, and he hungers for glory according to Jon Connington.”

“And this is not the words of a desperate man? Ser Richard believes Jon Connington? The Golden Company was founded with the aim of seating a Blackfyre on the throne. Though now all the Blackfyres are dead I suppose they are lost without a cause.” Rhaella muses.

“Indeed they are my queen. So perhaps when the king is back we should speak with him and ask what he believes should be done.” Ser Gerold asks.

“Aye we shall.” Rhaella responds. “Now what other news is there for us to discuss?”

“Volantis and Slaver’s Bay are making ready for war with one another. It seems Volantis wishes to end the Slaver’s attempt to bring back the Ghiscari Empire.” Ser Willam says.

“They wish to do that?” Rhaella says incredulously. “It has been millennia since Ghiscar stood. And even then why would they wish for such a thing?”

“Because they seem to fear the presence of your family and the rumours of eggs taken from Dragonstone. Fires are brewing in Asshai my queen. They await your coming.” Ser Willam says.

“Why on earth would they want us in Asshai?” Rhaella asks then she answers her own question. “They think we still want those damnable dragons back don’t they?”

“Yes my queen. Unfortunately they do. It seems the Targaryen name has become associated with fire.” Ser Willam says.

“Because of Aerys and his allowance of the alchemists guild. As well as that dammed priest Thoros.” Rhaella grumbles. She then feels something break and a wet sort of feeling running down her leg, she hears a gasp and then looks down. “It would appear my water has broken sers.”


	13. One Rule

**Third Month of 286 A.C.: King’s Landing**

**Lord Jon Arryn**

Gods how he wanted to go back to the Vale. He was too old for all of this backstabbing and politicking that made up life in King’s Landing. There were newer and younger players in this game now, and Jon was slowly losing his will to play the game. He wanted to return to the Vale where the people were honest and whatever games were played were done so with complete honesty. He wanted to raise his son Robert with true Vale upbringing and not the stupid games that the people of court played. He wanted to do all this and yet he did not resign, for he had a duty to Robert, his king, the foster son he had gone to war for. Robert was raging and whoring and drinking, and the fact that he now had not one heir but two, the golden twins Joffrey and Myrcella made Jon all the more determined to remain and see them all grow as the need be.

Even if it meant dealing with the whole unpleasantness that came from Robert’s all to frequent outbursts. “Robert we do not know if it was the Velaryons who betrayed Stannis and took him over to be tortured. Lord Laenor has sworn on the seven that he did not do so.”

“So then why did his ships not come with Stannis when my brother went to fight the pirates?” Robert booms.

“Because there were a dozen more ships between them. Lord Laenor has said as much as has Ser Davos. And we all know how devoted Stannis’s onion knight to him.” Jon replies.

“Pah. The onion knight is a commoner, what does he know of war?” Robert roars dismissively. “I want to know one good reason why I should not sail for Driftmark and raise that sodding island to the ground?”

Jon tries a different tactic then. “Because if you do that, and Stannis truly is on the Driftmark then he will be killed the minute they learn that you are sailing for their home. Secondly, it will push some of the houses of the narrow sea back into Targaryen arms.”

Robert growls at that. “So what? Let them go, I will find them and kill them all when the time comes.”

Jon sighs at that and asks. “And you would bring more war and grief to the seven kingdoms Your Grace? Tarth is without its ruling family. The Stormlands themselves are reeling from the fighting that took place there. Would you bring more war simply to fight a dragon without wings?”

The eunuch speaks then. “I would not say the dragon has no wings my lord hand. After all Rhaella Targaryen has just given birth to a boy whom she has named Aemon. My little birds tell me that Ser Willam Darry is looking to seek an alliance with his brother or his nephew here and bring the dragons back. Furthermore, Jon Connington has brought the golden company to Pentos. It does seem as if the dragon is beginning to prepare for war.”

Jon could have cursed the eunuch for what he had said. “Then we must go not to the Driftmark but to Pentos itself and bring the dragon down. I want Connington dead, I want them all dead.”

“And then what Your Grace?” Jon asks. “They are dead but more threats will appear.”

“Threats?” Robert scoffs. “What threats. The Targaryens are the only threats to my reign that matter. Nothing else does.”

Jon sighs once more, Robert’s words have just summed up his entire attitude to the kingship. “You forget Your Grace, that there are those who consider you an usurper as well as a kinslayer. Though your ties to the Targaryens are distant. There are those in Lorath and elsewhere who look to bring back an old way, the Ironborn themselves have remained quiet throughout all of this.”

“So you would have me let the dragonspawn live to breed and cause problems for my children and grandchildren Jon?” Robert asks.

“No,” Jon says impatiently. “I would have you think before you act. Do as you want to do now, and the realm shall bleed and we will be short of a master of ships. Think about the course of action you wish to take, and perhaps we might just have something to work with.”

Robert pauses as if considering this and then asks. “What do you have in mind Jon?”

“We have a spy in Richard Lonmouth, desperate for his brother’s castle. We use that to our advantage and make him think we shall give it to him if he does what we tell him to do. Let him become friends with the pretender, and when the time comes we shall make the enterprise the boy has gotten around himself come crashing down.” Jon says.

“How do we do that?” Robert asks.

Varys speaks then. “The way the dragonlords of Valyria used to bring one another down. Intrigue and promises and temptation.  The pretender has a paramour in the septa used to teach his younger siblings, we use her against him. And we bring our good knight of skulls into this.”

“And that will do the work that needs to be done?” Robert asks.

Jon nods. “Yes Your Grace I do believe it will. We just need your approval for it to go ahead.”

“And this will lessen the bloodshed and ensure that the kingdoms remain peaceful for sometime?” Robert asks.

“Yes Your Grace. And you would not even need to get your hands dirty.” The eunuch says.

“Then what are you waiting for? Get to it.” Robert booms.

Varys stands and bows and then walks out of the room. Jon then speaks. “The next matter at hand is who should inherit Tarth.” He pauses for a moment then continues. “Valerion Dracaerys killed both Lord Selwyn and Lady Brienne, thus extinguishing House Tarth in the male line. There exist several potential female claimants. Pycelle.”

The grand maester speaks then. “Yes, thank you my lord hand. Whilst there are some nine lesser claimants, the two main claimants are the Estermont and the royal family.”

There is silence for a long moment and then Robert asks. “How do we have a claim? Father never mentioned this to us whilst he still lived.”

Pycelle looks at his notes and then says. “You Grandfather Lord Ormund had a sister who wed into House Tarth, and she had three daughters one of whom was your mother’s mother who wed into House Estermont.”

Silence and then Robert asks. “Would it make sense for us to claim dominion then?”

Jon speaks then. “Yes. It would prevent lots of unnecessary headaches for the crown and young Lord Renly. Perhaps it can become a princedom, as the old dynasty used Summerhall for. A royal retreat that can be used for levying trade and other such things.”

Robert smiles then and says. “Very well. I shall leave the finer details of it all to you lot. I must needs go now.”

Robert stands and walks out and once he is gone, Grand Maester Pycelle speaks. “It seems the king was most satisfied with that. He did not even think to ask about the terms for Lord Stannis’s release.”

Jon sighs. “That is because he knows whatever they send will not be good enough for him. We must work harder on this matter before we bring it to the king’s attention. Until then, is there aught else we must discuss?”

Pycelle looks at his notes and then says. “No my lord hand.”

Jon nods. “Good, then we are at an end for now.” With that they all stand and leave, he walks back to the tower of the hand to find his wife waiting for him with their new born son. “My lord, did you think about what I had asked of you?”

Jon hesitates for a moment and his wife takes that time to reinforce her point. “I do believe heading north would be a good idea my lord. It would please me a lot to see Cat again and to see my nephew and niece. As well as to spare Cat from the coldness that undoubtedly her marriage is with that solemn faced stranger.”

Jon hesitates for a moment and then says. “Whilst I agree that the move north would be a good idea. But I do not agree that Catelyn would be so grim in her marriage, Ned is a good man.”

His wife smiles slightly at him and says. “But of course you would say that, he was your ward. Cat is my sister and I know she was so excited to wed Brandon. Lord Stark must pale in comparison.”

Jon bites back a retort and merely says. “I shall ask the king for leave soon and then we shall head north. And then once we are done in the north perhaps we could visit Gulltown and meet with this Petyr man you keep mentioning.”

His wife positively beamed at that and said. “Oh Jon thank you! I promise you won’t regret meeting him. He is a very smart man, he always has been. He will be miles better than that old fart that currently sits as master of coin.”

Jon laughs slightly and then asks. “How has my son been doing?”

His wife smiles even more then and says. “Robin has been doing very well. Haven’t you sweetling. He grows stronger every day and I know he will make a fine Lord of the vale when his time comes.”

Jon smiled at that and smiled at his son. His wife and son both yawned and he soon said. “Very well then. My lady I shall see you shortly there is just one more matter I need to see to.” With that he kisses his wife’s cheek and ruffles his son’s hair and then he walks on toward his solar where as expected the eunuch is waiting for him. “What more information were you able to gather Varys?”

 

 

The eunuch titters somewhat. “The Targaryens in Lorath have sent over their men and allies to begin treating with the pretender. Our spy is amongst them planting seeds of destruction against their overlords. Soon enough we shall know more about the true state of affairs.”

“And what word on Dorne?” Jon asks.

“Prince Doran remains stoic as ever, and Prince Oberyn spends more and more time abroad in Essos. As to what they do, there is some more information on that. Prince Oberyn was recently in Lorath, at the Dancer’s manse. I believe to meet with the head of the white dragons.”

Jon sighs. “So they are still not content with the deal we hammered out in Sunspear two years ago? Do they truly still want more war and bloodshed for a boy?”

“They want justice, and they know that king Robert will be unable to give it to them. As he is wed to Cersei Lannister, Tywin and the mountain shall remain untouched.” Varys says. “That does not please them. So can you truly blame them for looking for aid from elsewhere?”

Jon sighs and says. “I guess not. Have you found out anything more on what happened at the Tower of Joy and why the three knights of the Kingsguard were there?”

The eunuch shakes his head. “Unfortunately not my lord hand. That is one piece of information that continues to elude me. I cannot say for certain but my information leads me to believe there might have been a child. Though if such a child ever existed it is now since dead.”

Jon sighs. “Indeed. Perhaps it is for the best that such a child never came out of the framework. For there would be more than just war to worry about. There would be bonds of friendship and peace and harmony.”

“You believe King Robert would war with his oldest friend over such an issue?” Varys asks.

Jon looks at the man and says. “You heard Robert today, you know what he is like. No it is best if such a thing is never discovered. End your searching now and let us never speak of it again.”

 


	14. Dragon King

**4 th Month of 286 A.C. Pentos**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

His first experience of actual battle had been an interesting one. Having joined the second sons with his brother Aegon, Daeron had been unsure of what to expect, and whilst the commander of the Second Sons Laenor Rogare was a bitter and strong man, he also seemed to have a great deal of respect for Daeron, or rather Daeron’s family name. This therefore meant that Daeron had to undergo fewer trials compared to other new recruits, the same of which was true for Aegon. Daeron had been knighted after one of the many battles that were fought in the Disputed Lands, Rogare doing the honours himself. The fighting itself had been chaotic and somewhat barbaric, nowhere near as civil as what his father had led him to believe before he had been sane and nowhere near as nice or as good as the songs made it out to be. War was a harsh business and men were made for dying. Truth be told he was somewhat glad to be home and to be able to give his money over to his family was the biggest reward.

Right now he was sat in the main room of the cheesemonger’s manse and was listening to what his mother and his other councillors had to say. “All has been well here so far Your Grace. The usurper is none the wiser as to where we truly are. Though the eunuch has planted some trails stating that we are in Pentos he has not directed him to where. And as the eunuch controls all of the king’s spies he is not like to find out anytime soon.” Ser Willam said.

His mother elaborates. “Since we have lived in Pentos we have not had as much cause for concern as we had in Braavos. For one thing there is no bank here looking to make good on old debts that the royal family has. And as such there are fewer glory seekers.”

“And what of my brothers and sister how do they fare here?” Daeron asked.

His mother speaks. “Well, Your Grace. Jaehaerys and Viserys are growing stronger and more knowledgeable, and Daenerys is turning into a beautiful young girl though she is young still.”

Daeron nods. “That is good. Very good. And what of my newest sibling? What of Aemon?”

“He too is doing well. Growing stronger with each passing day.” His mother replies.

“Very well. Has there been any word from Ser Raymun Darry as to whether or not he and the over Riverlords who fought beside my brother will bestir themselves when the time comes?” Daeron asks looking at Ser Willam.

Ser Willam is silent for a moment and then he says. “My nephew says that it is something he is working on. It appears that the loyalist lords in the Riverlands are being won over by the usurper and by Lord Hoster Tully and the prospect of having one of their daughters as the future lady of Riverrun. It could take some time, but my nephew is sure that it will happen.”

“We need to have them on our side, and have them planning for our return Ser.” Daeron says. “I will not win the throne with just the sellswords. Dorne itself might wait before it calls its banners. Prince Doran after all is a very cautious man.”

“Speaking of Dorne,” his mother says. “Prince Oberyn wrote to us from Lorath. It seems that Prince Maegor is more than willing to begin preparations for the invasion, ahead of schedule. It seems he has become impatient with his exile.”

Daeron nods and then asks. “Can the man be trusted? After all there are those who might believe he has the better claim out of our two branches. Perhaps a marriage can be arranged?”

His mother shakes her head at that. “Prince Maegor is not an overly ambitious man it is true. But he would want his daughter wed to you, or perhaps even his granddaughter wed to you. And as you are already betrothed to Arianne Martell, and as we need Dorne more than we need him, I suggest that no such thing is suggested when the two of you meet.”

Daeron nods and then asks. “When do we meet with him?”

“On the morrow. He is likely only a day’s ride away now. He was always quite prompt about such things. Though I must warn you, do not bring up his father or his son.” His mother says.

“His father I can understand,” Daeron says. “But his son?”

“Prince Maegor’s son was named for my grandfather, a dragon with the dragon’s name. but he shamed himself something fierce all those years ago, I do not know all the details for Aerys would never share them with me.  But I do know that Prince Maegor does not like to be reminded of Aegon and his follies.” His mother replies.

Daeron nods then and then turns his attention to Ser Gerold. “Lord Commander, having fought beside Ser Richard, I do think he is worthy of bearing a white cloak. What would you make of that?”

The Lord Commander, the white bull is a formidable man and yet he is ageing. Still he remains silent for a long time before his voice comes through. “I believe it is the right choice. Ser Richard whilst being confused of some things, is certainly a good knight, a good swordsman and a man most definitely loyal to your grace. He would rather die than dishonour you or your family.”

Daeron nods and then says. “Jon Connington made the return trip with me as well. As I am sure you all know, he believes he can get the Golden Company on our side. Though whether this is possible or not I am not sure. Given the history between the company and our house. Mother I would hear your views.”

Queen Rhaella has a very sharp mind and was at court for far longer than Daeron ever was, and so she says. “Jon Connington is a good and honourable man. He was one of your brother’s closest friends. And yet I do believe he is saying these things, more to make up for the defeat at the Stoney Sept than because he actually believes them. As you, yourself said, there is bad blood between our family and the company. I see no reason for them to join us.”

Ser Willam speaks then. “Perhaps a promise of returning those lands they lost in lost causes many moons ago could help sway them to our side?”

“But which lands and which castles is the question then. After all the Peakes lost two of their castles, and Lord Titus Peake I do believe is firmly behind the Lannisters. There would be more war than one could handle.” His mother says.

Daeron sighs and says. “I will need to leave for the Disputed Lands again very soon. No doubt I will see the company there, I shall bring Connington with me and we shall meet and speak with the company.”

“And what if you are fighting on opposite sides of the conflict?” his mother asks. “If Ser Myles Toyne believes he can get something out of Robert Baratheon he will not hesitate to do it.”

“Then I shall have to risk it.” Daeron says.

“If I might make a suggestion Your Graces,” the cheesemonger says. “I have friends in the company, and I myself know the captain general quite well. I could perhaps suggest that they side with whoever the second sons’ side with. Thus making it easier for his grace to speak with him about terms and conditions.”

Daeron is about to ask how the cheesemonger knows the company when his mother says. “Very well. A smart plan, I suggest we allow this to happen Daeron.”

Daeron nods then and then asks. “What more news is there?”

The cheesemonger speaks then. “The usurper’s council has begun discussions to find and barter for the release of Stannis Baratheon. Whilst some believe him to be on the Driftmark, Lord Varys has managed to convince them that he is elsewhere. He has planted rumours that the Baratheon lord is in the basilisk Isles or in Tyrosh. But soon enough he shall need to bring the rumours full circle.”

“And what are the Velaryons doing to Lord Stannis?” Daeron asks.

“The usual. Soon enough he will be broken and will not remember a thing of his imprisonment.” The cheesemonger says. “Which will be a good thing when you hear of what they have done to him.”

Daeron holds up a hand. “I do not wish to hear. Send word to Lord Laenor, and to Lord Lucerys tell them that soon enough the time will come to release Stannis Baratheon. When an offer for a war fund comes in, release him.”

“Is that wise though Your Grace?” Ser Willam asks. “Surely once his brother is back in King’s Landing, he will want to reap havoc on wherever he believes Lord Stannis has been.”

The cheesemonger smiles and says. “And that is why he will not remember where he has been.”

After that their meeting ends and Daeron checks in with his siblings, Aegon spending time sparring with Jaehaerys, Viserys and Daenerys playing with one another, and little Aemon sleeping in his cradle. The night he spends with Ashara, they relearn each other’s bodies and make love many times over, sometimes he thinks he should worry about getting her with child, and others he thinks she is the only warmth he will get. Whatever the case, he loves her and she him, but they both know this can go no further.

The next day Daeron is dressed in his finest clothes, his mother, Ser Willam Darry and Ser Gerold Hightower by his side as they greet Prince Maegor Targaryen, he who was exiled to Lorath during the reign of Daeron’s great grandfather. Prince Maegor has silver hair and violet eyes and a harsh face, years of fighting as a sellsword some example of that. His tone is brusque when he says. “So you are the boy who will be restoring our family to power.” There is silence for a moment, and then he gets down on one knee and says. “An honour your grace.”

That done they move inside and begin discussions for their alliance. “As it stands, the Second Sons shall be rallying behind my banners, as will Dorne.” Daeron says. “I want to know what you shall bring to the table.”

Prince Maegor is silent for a long moment and then smiles. “Spoken like a true dragon. Well if you already have Dorne and the Second Sons, then you are halfway there. But I will tell you this now, they will not give you everything. My army is some 10,000 strong, and the golden company will go a long way bringing more men to your cause. Particularly those men who are angry with Highgarden and their overlords.”

“So you suggest we send out ravens asking about their tendencies?” Daeron enquires.

The man shakes his head. “No, doing that risks bringing attention to you. We do not know who to trust and who not to trust in Westeros at the moment. And besides there are some old scores there that might need to be settled first.”

“What do you mean by that?” Daeron asks.

“I mean that Robert Baratheon will have something more on his plate to worry about other than you for some time. I mean that old alliances are being reformed as we speak. Euron Greyjoy is planning to attack the Westerlands with his brother’s backing, and I am very tempting to bring my own men to aid them.” Prince Maegor says.

“You would support the Ironborn?” his mother asks.

“I would do whatever I needed to do, to ensure that our family is restored to power. If that means supporting a bunch of barbarians then so be it.” The man replies.

“And how would you support them?” Daeron asks intrigued.

“Ships, money and men. I know ways to attack the crownlands that would make the king’s small council nervous with worry. Divide the usurper’s attention and work at that, and then break him.” Prince Maegor says.

“When would you do this?” Daeron asks.

“When would you wish for me to do this?” the man asks.

“As soon as possible. Write to your friend and get it done. Kill the usurper if you get the chance.” Daeron says.


	15. Quiet Wolf

**Eighth Month of 286 A.C. Winterfell**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

It had been three years since the rebellion had ended, in that time Ned would like to think he had become accustomed to the burden that the gods and the Targaryens had seen fit to give him. He had never thought to be Lord of Winterfell, second son as he was, he had never truly thought of marrying either beyond that one dance with Ashara, then again he would not change his life now. Though he mourned father and Brandon and Lyanna, he knew that living in the past brought about only old ghosts. His life with Catelyn and their two children Robb and Sansa was more than he could ever have asked for, and despite the tension that existed between the two of them over Jon’s presence they had built somewhat of a happy life together and now it seemed that that was at risk.

Sat in his solar, that had once been his father’s Ned looked through the letters that come that day, one from Riverrun from his goodfather and another one bearing grim tidings from his great uncle Brandon on the Stony Shore. It was this second letter that he had called his lady wife and maester Luwin as well as Ser Rodrik Cassel to discuss. “It would appear that Balon Greyjoy means to bring about the old way once more. Uncle Brandon has corroborated the reports Lord Jorah had sent through from Bear Island, it would appear that they are moving their longships out in force.”

“But why do it now? It has been three years since the rebellion, and his grace is sat securely on his throne. Why would Balon Greyjoy engage in raiding now?” Catelyn asked. “And why the north?”

“Because the Greyjoys have often wanted to renew the empire that the Hoares had before the dragons came my lady.” Ned said, looking at his wife. “The Greyjoys earned their place as you know, but they have often felt as if they were second best to some of the other more prominent houses. Perhaps they mean to bring Bear Island back to its original place as they see it.”

“And they would not wonder that they do not have the strength to hold any of their attempted conquests? Considering that we are not at war.” Catelyn replied.

It was Maester Luwin who spoke then. “It does seem as though the Ironborn are being aided by another outside source. The pirates that raided the Stormlands last year it seems were a mere distraction. My friends at the citadel have written to say that pirate ships have been seen near Oldtown.”

“But surely they would not dare strike now?” Catelyn asks. “Not when the King has shown he will not be beaten.”

Ned speaks then. “That was just a assortment of pirates my lady. And even then they managed to capture Lord Stannis, the king’s own brother. The man is said to be half the man he was before he left for the battle. It is very likely that the Ironborn are going to have an all-out war on the cards before long. We shall need to be ready for it when it comes. I shall not be like Beron Stark and be caught out.”

Ser Rodrik nods and then says. “I shall see to it that Winterfell’s own men are ready for battle my lord. We shall not be as unprepared for something as we were when last the Ironborn had come.”

Ned nods and then says. “Maester Luwin I want you to send ravens out to all of the northern houses and tell them to get their men ready and should the Ironborn strike I want them to be ready to march at a moment’s notice. The Ironborn shall not get away.”

The maester nods and then says. “There are more rumours floating this way from the other maesters. Some are saying that there are more than just one dragon engaging in politics here in Westeros my lord. How true this is I do not know, but there are rumours they have their sources near here.”

For a brief moment Ned feels his heart clench in fear, he looks at Catelyn who merely looks stone faced, and then he says. “I would not pay much rumour mind maester. After all we fought to remove the dragons from the throne. We are not likely to aid them or give them shelter. I would never allow it.” He pauses for a moment and then says softly. “Not after what that man did to my sister.”

Catelyn gives his hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, whilst maester Luwin says. “And no one is placing faith or belief in such rumours my lord. But still they are there lurking in the shadows. After all there are some who question your account of what happened between yourself and the knights of the Kingsguard. And Lady Lyanna’s involvement in all of this. Though they mainly stay in the south.”

Ned feels Catelyn squeeze his hand again and he takes a deep breath before saying. “Let them stay in the south then. For no such talk will ever be welcomed here in Winterfell or elsewhere in the north. Many good men died trying to save my sister, and as such, such talk tarnishes their memory and I shall not have it.”

Maester Luwin nods and then Ser Rodrik asks. “Where are these rumours and slanderous questions coming from maester?”

Luwin looks at Ned briefly before saying. “I do not know, but their origin is in the south. There is also talk that there are dragons in Lorath. But as to whether there is any truth to these matters I know not, though I highly doubt it.”

Hearing enough about this Ned says. “Thank you, now if you do not mind, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik. I would like to speak to my wife about some matters, alone.” Both men nod and leave the room. Once they are gone Ned turns to Catelyn who is still sat by his side. “I am sorry you had to hear that my lady.” He says softly.

His wife smiles sweetly and says. “It makes no matter my lord. Maester Luwin did his duty in informing you of the rumours. But we both know the truth so it makes no matter. Besides the Ironborn will take everyone else’s attention away from this matter.”

Ned sighs and says. “That is what worries me. Having to rely on the threat of war to distract for something that should not be a crime but is. I worry now though, what if something happens when I am away?”

Catelyn looks worried for a moment before saying. “Nothing bad will happen to myself and the children my lord. The people of Winterfell respect you and love the children too much to allow that. Besides no one would dare harm them. Not even if there was any truth to the rumours.”

Ned kisses his wife’s hand and says. “They love you too Catelyn. They do I know you think they do not, but they do. You have done everything to earn their respect and love, you have done a far better job than anyone else could have done.”

His wife merely smiles and says. “I wonder what my father wrote to you that was of so much import.”

Ned hands his wife the letter and says. “Well Cat why don’t we find out.” And together they read the letter and find that it contains some very interesting information as well as some worrying information.

His wife laughs at one point and says. “I can’t believe my father actually allowed old Walder Frey to finally get his wish. Edmure betrothed to Fair Walda Frey? Now that is something I definitely did not see coming.”

Ned smiles at his wife’s laughter and asks. “So I take it Lord Walder has been asking for a betrothal to your brother for many a year now?”

His wife nods. “Ever since Edmure was a little baby, I remember old Walder Frey coming down to Riverrun at least once or twice a moon to ask for a betrothal. Father always refused him, so I wonder why he finally agreed.”

Ned does not fail to note the question in his wife’s tone and takes her and tries to say as reassuringly as possible. “Lord Hoster is a smart man, and Walder Frey is his most powerful bannerman. Perhaps he thought it best to tie them closer together?”

His wife nods and then says. “Though the news about Lysa is very worrying. Another miscarriage in as many years. She will be very distraught.”

Ned nods and says. “Perhaps you and the children could go and visit her? She might take comfort from having her family with her?”

Catelyn shakes her head. “I do not think she would take well to seeing me and the children just now Ned. Lysa can be temperamental at the best of times. Rubbing it in, or what she would perceive as such would do nothing to help. And besides you shall need help in the run up to the war.”

Once again, Ned is amazed by the resolve his wife shows and her strength. He thinks begrudgingly that someone like Lyanna might not have been so strong, perhaps if she had…. But no he will not think badly of his sister. “Aye that is true. I will need to speak with Lord Willam though, I need to hear some more of these rumours that are coming from the south. His wife will know more about it than Luwin.”

Cat makes a disapproving noise and says. “Lady Barbrey seems to know an awful lot about rumours and such relating to our family, more so than we do. I wonder why, could Willam have told him?”

Ned shakes his head. “No I do not think so. There is a fondness between them, but Willam would never break his word. He… he is not Brandon.”

There is some silence there as the presence of ghosts old and new hang between them before his wife nods and says simply. “That he is not. Now though, we shall need to ensure that all of the children are kept under watch. We cannot allow them to leave without supervision. Though with Sansa being no more than a babe, Robb and Jon are more at risk.”

Ned feels something in him clench at the thought of either of his boys being taken and he says. “Yes, that shall be done. Now my lady, I do believe we should go and see the children.”

Cat smiles at him and he feels his breath leave him. And so they go arm in arm to the nursery where Robb and Jon are playing some game or the other, they both listen intently as the children natter on about this, that and the other, and Ned hopes that they never need to know the horrors of war. He prays they and Sansa and any future children he and Catelyn have never need to know the pain that comes with death and suffering. He prays for this most fervently, and hopes that the sacrifices they have all made, the new generation, never goes in vain.

Of course as has been the reality since Lyanna fled home, the gods seem to be laughing at his prayers. News comes not two weeks after that thought of the burning of the Stony Shore, the capturing of Sea Dragon Point, the attack on Seagard and the bombardment of King’s Landing. Balon Greyjoy having declared himself King of the Iron Islands, it seems is determined to bring the old way to Westeros. Ned says goodbye to his wife and children, and prays this war will end soon. He rides out with 15,000 Northmen all content on getting their revenge on the Ironborn. Before war’s end the Ironborn will know the wrath of the quiet wolf and it will be a lesson they will never forget.


	16. Some Will Say

**10 th Month of 286 A.C. Sea Dragon Point**

**Victarion Greyjoy**

Finally they were at war once more. It had been years since the Ironborn had set sail from their islands to raid and pillage the Greenlands. Victarion’s father Quellon had been a strong and bold man in his youth, but by the time Victarion and his brothers had been of an age to go raiding and pillaging, Quellon Greyjoy had become old and cautious. He had not permitted any raiding of the Greenlands and very rarely allowed the Iron Fleet to leave port for the Stepstones or any of the other bounty that there was in Essos. Instead trade and other Greenlander activities were encouraged and Victarion and his brothers grew restless. And then their father died at the Mander when they had taken part in raiding the shield Islands. Balon had come to the Seastone chair, and changes had been made. In the three years since that day, the ships had increased and the Iron Fleet now held some 150 longships all primed for battle. Plans were being made for the return of an Ironborn empire, similar to the one that the Hoares had had in the days of old, and Victarion as Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet would lead.

Their first point of call had been the north. Where the Hoares held the greatest level of sway in days of old. Bear Island held little appeal now, a wasteland was what it was, the Stony Shore and Sea Dragon Point though had plenty of people there to make thralls worth wile, and there was plenty of materials there for more shipbuilding and such. Victarion had led 80 longships to the western coast of the north, raiding the Stony Shore taking those people not quick enough to fight or flee as thralls and killing all else. Their huts were no longer present, the villages were empty and the wood and other materials had all been placed on the ships and would soon be sent home. There had been little resistance at the Shore, something that had surprised Victarion but then again he supposed Lord Eddard Stark was not as smart as his lord father had been.

At Sea Dragon Point where the cliffs were high and the people fierce, they had been met with resistance. But even then they were not met by Stark men, or at least not the main stark body, for some man named Brandon Stark had come to face them with but 1,000 men. Stark was old, but a smart man and the fighting they had engaged in there and then had been some of the best fighting that Victarion had ever truly engaged in. Death had come in a great many forms that day, arrows, spears, swords and axes had come and been engaged in the sweet dance of battle. Victarion had fought many worthy foes that day, and it had been a great pleasure for him when he had finally broken the host, the resistance and killed the old man Brandon Stark as well as his three sons.

Now they held the Stony Shore and Sea Dragon Point, the next point of engagement would be Deepwood Motte. That had always been the plan, get a hold of one of the castles in the north and the world would shake and quake with fear. But of course it seemed Eddard Stark was now taking them seriously for the man had called his banners and was marching on them with quite a sizeable host if the scouts and rumours could be believed. Though as Victarion stood with his axe in hand waiting for the battle to begin, as he stood on the cliffs of the Point he could easily believe that the rumours were true. Banners were flying in the distance, and it seemed they spread for quite a distance. This would most definitely, be a battle for the ages.

His brother Aeron stood beside him and asked. “What do you wish to do brother?”

“We wait, and we see what these northmen shall do.” Victarion replied.

His brother nodded and then asked. “And what of the ships?”

“We keep them prepped and ready. If it looks to be going badly, I want you and some of the other men to retreat, go to Bear Island and sack it. And then return home and wait for Balon to give you more orders.” Victarion says.

“And what of you brother? What will you do?” Aeron asks

“I shall remain here with the rest of the men and stay and fight. I will die with my axe in my hand and the drowned god’s praises on my lips. I will dine on northern blood and I shall laugh when I kill Eddard Stark.” Victarion says.

“Then let me stay and fight beside you brother.” His brother protests. “I can aid you in this.”

Victarion shakes his head. “You remember the words the Shrike said, you must remain and live you will play a big part in the war to come. Balon would not have you die, neither will I.”

“Ironborn do not flee though brother. You, yourself taught me this. And I would not be Ironborn if I were to flee.” Aeron protests.

He can feel his patience beginning to wane thin with his brother and he says as simply as possible. “You shall do as I say and you shall do it when the time comes. The Shrike is a powerful man to refuse his command would be a dangerous thing indeed. We cannot afford that. Now go and ask Robin to come and speak with me.”

His brother merely nodded and left, soon enough as the cluster of banners came closer to the cliffs, Robin Greyjoy the youngest of Quellon Greyjoy’s sons came forward and said. “You wished to speak with me brother?”

Robin was an idiot, a foolish Ironborn with Greenlander ideals, but for this he would serve a purpose. “You shall command the first wave of attackers.” Victarion said. “Command the first wave down the cliffs and smash into the Stark host. They shall be tired from their marching and shall not be expecting it.”

Robin merely nodded and then left. Victarion stood on the cliffs and waited for what seemed an age before he finally blew the horn his father had given to him as a name day present many years ago. With the sounding of the horn, the first wave of attack began. Victarion watched with some fascination as Robin riding at the front of the wave led the charge towards the northmen. As he thought the crash and the fighting was quite brutal and would soon enough end with Robin and his foolish seaweeds deaths.

Eventually the battle wound its way down and Victarion armoured and ready as he was, began the descent down to where his own men were waiting. He mounted his horse, grimacing somewhat at the strangeness of the motion, and then drew his axe and roared a command and then they were off into the fray. The second wave of attack was brutal and efficient. Victarion was right, the northmen were tired from their days of marching and their swings and attacks were lax, Victarion caved in half of the men he faced with merely one blow, the other half took two swings to kill and end. He roared in joy and continued the fighting, swinging his axe, again and again, laughing all the while.

On they went pushing the northmen as hard as they could. It was often said that the Ironborn were born with a weapon in their hands, and Victarion at this moment in time felt that such a saying had never been truer. He knew how to fight, it was in his blood and it was something that he loved doing. He swung his axe and continued killing more and more of the northmen, swinging and hacking away at them like they were nothing more than scraps of meat. The fighting continued and for the nonce it seemed as though they were winning, the battle continued and Victarion’s axe was red with blood and his own blood was up.

The battle seemed to be going far too well for them, but Victarion did not truly care, a victory over the northmen would send the whole kingdoms shaking with anxiety. And as such he continued pushing forward, swinging his axe like it was his only lifeline, he swung and swung and swung, and as more and more bodies began to pile up on the ground he felt like singing if he were given to such female pursuits. Instead he merely roared his joy and continued on the killing spree. At one point he swore he saw Robin’s body lying sprawled and unseeing on the ground, and that caused him to laugh all the more. He pushed on and the battle continued.

As the battle progresses, it seems that the northmen finally have found their strength and their fight back begins. Victarion welcomes it, and as the barrage of northern assault continues he finds himself more often than not on the back foot, fighting hard not to give in. He fights a giant of a man wielding one of the biggest great swords he has ever seen and as such he begins wondering his path in life, the man’s sword is so long it breaks through his armour in several places, eventually Victarion manages to break the man’s defences and begins his own rapid attack, but still the loss of blood is making him more than dizzy and as he falls of his horse, he expects the death blow to come, but instead the man moves on and Victarion lies down in the piles of blood and dirt for as long as he can, trying to force himself up and yet struggling to do so.

As he lies there struggling to get up, images of battles fought in the past come flickering through his mind. The battles in the Stepstones and the Summer Isles as a boy, winning his spurs and praise from his older brothers and his father. Besting Euron in the finger dance when their mother remained alive. Doing all of this and more in his life, and he struggles back to his feet, he will not die, not now, not like this. He will not let the Shrike’s Prophecy come true. He shall stand true and tall and he shall continue fighting. The tide of the battle seems to have changed when he stands back up and staggers back toward the action, the northmen are pushing them back towards the cliffs.

Victarion roars his defiance and welcomes the northmen who come charging at him. He swings his axe and cuts one of them down relatively quickly, the second one he cuts down and then breaks in half. The third one though proves to be more of a challenge. Swinging his axe and the other man’s sword they meet in the air and the struggle continues, on and on it goes. Swinging, blocking, ducking, feinting, doing all they can to remain alive and whole, the fighting wears on and Victarion can feel his strength beginning to wane. Still he fights, and he lets a roar loose when his axe finally buries itself inside of the man.

The fighting continues and Victarion goes with the flow, pulling his axe out of the man and swinging it at the others who come his way. His vision is growing feint though, but he knows not what to do about that. He merely keeps fighting, killing one man, after another, after another. The fighting fills him with a sense of belonging he has not felt is sometime, the fighting continues and he roars his joy and his anger in equal measure, his body has weathered a dozen blows now but it is this last one by a big bear of a man that sends him tumbling down into the blood stained ground.

It is this blow that begins taking the breath out of him, and his eyes are going blurry, his chest feels winded and his blood is spilling out at an alarming rate. So it seems the Shrike was true, he did die in the north, away from home and the sea. He only hopes Aeron lives, for if not, then they are all doomed.


	17. Gullet

**12 th Month of 286 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Stannis Baratheon**

They were at war once more, and this time one of Robert’s own lords had rebelled against the throne. Balon Greyjoy Lord Reaper of Pyke was an old man by their standards the same age as Prince Rhaegar or perhaps older, Stannis was not sure, and yet the man had named himself King of the Iron Islands and had set himself the task of reclaiming the Ironborn’s old kingdom. Stannis remembered well the last war he had taken part in against the pirate alliance, and the torture he had endured at their hands had left its scars for nearly a year he had sat and rotted in some cell or the other as they had done things to him that even now had him waking up in a cold sweat shivering and gasping for breath. Stannis did not remember where he had been kept prisoner, his captors had been smart in that, and they had kept him in the dark on that and so much more. When he returned he was a changed man he knew, twitching and by far more suspicious.

Now they were at war once more and some of the Greyjoys allies in the Pirate Alequo Adarys had blocked off the Gullet preventing trade and other things from coming straight to King’s Landing. Banners had been called and now they were holding a war council. Robert looking more sober than he had done in a long time barked out. “Now then what are these damned pirates wanting and are they truly working for Euron Greyjoy?”

Hand of the King Jon Arryn spoke then. “It would seem so Your Grace. After all they fly the Kraken of House Greyjoy and have cut down many of our emissaries in ways that only Ironborn would know how to do. Well Ironborn and pirates.”

“And how did these damnable pirates get a hold on the Gullet? I had thought that the royal fleet was patrolling the Blackwater and the seas to ensure such a thing could not happen?” Robert barks looking at Stannis.

Tired and somewhat irritable, Stannis merely says. “My deputy Ser Davos assures me he had his men and the fleet scouring the seas and the Blackwater for many moons. It seems that there were people working from the inside that controlled the routes of certain patrol ships and diverted them from their main course.”

“So why was the crown and council not informed of this when it became apparent? After all as master of ships it is your duty to inform the crown and council of anything worthy of suspicion is not Stannis?” Robert asks, his tone brooking no argument.

And yet Stannis cannot help but answer back. “I was a prisoner in some godforsaken island for most of the time that this was happening Your Grace. Ser Davos has assured me that once he became aware of what was happening he did his best to bring it to attention of the small council but it seems someone in the chain of command ensured that these orders got lost.”

His brother growls but Lord Arryn speaks then. “Very well, we can have a deeper look into this once these pirates are dealt with. Lord Stannis what can you tell us on the pirates and their numbers?”

Stannis looks at his notes and then says. “It would seem that Adarys and his allies have brought with them some 60 war ships that have prevented trade ships and cogs from getting into the Blackwater. The Gullet as the Velaryon fleet did during the dance of dragons is completely blocked off and it does appear as though there is no way out or in. As to the number of men they have, that is completely up in the air.”

“Will it be possible to break through their defensive ring and then attack?” Robert asks.

Stannis considers this for a moment and then says. “I believe if a rapid quick-fire attack is carried out when they least expect it, then perhaps yes. But the problem is, these are pirates and cutthroats who expect the unexpected all day and night and I do not see there being an opening for such a thing anytime soon.”

Lord Adrian Celtigar an old man and a veteran of many sea battles speaks then. “Be thankful then that I do. Pirates and cutthroats like to spend a great time drinking and dicing whilst on their ships. They are not always on the lookout for potential threats. The most optimum time for attacking would be when we normally take our midday meal as that is when it is hottest and when they shall be retiring for their breaks.”

Robert perks up at this and asks. “And how big a time period would this give us?”

Lord Celtigar is silent a moment and then says. “Well when I fought the pirate alliance in the Stepstones during the reign of Aegon the Unlikely, we had a window of some 2 hours and we managed to break them in an hour and a half. But it is different with each pirate as such we must needs learn more about them before we can truly make plans for such action.”

“Time is something we do not have Your Grace.” Lord Rykker the master of coin says. “We are running low on supplies and the people grow hungry and impatient. Soon enough there will be trouble in the streets.”

Stannis can see his brother pondering this for a moment before he turns to him and asks. “How quickly can the fleet be assembled and brought into action?”

Stannis thinks for a second and then says. “Give me an hour Your Grace and we shall be ready to go when you give the word.”

His brother nods and says. “Then get it done, I do not want to wait any longer. This blockade has been going on for long enough.”

“Your Grace, this, this cannot be done.” Lord Celtigar protests. “There is not enough time nor enough reason to begin heedlessly charging into battle against men who have the sea in their blood.”

Robert slams his hand down onto the table and says. “It shall be done because I say it needs to be done. And because I grow weary of sitting here with no food and shit wine to drink. Now go and do your duty Stannis.”

Stannis stands and bows then walks out of the room, he heads to the docks and finds Davos there waiting for him. “Prepare the ships Ser Davos, it is time for us to prove our mettle.”

“Yes my lord.” Ser Davos says before he hurries off and begins barking orders for the ships to be ready.

Ser Axell Florent a man who has been stalking King’s Landing ever since Stannis was betrothed to his daughter comes up to him then and asks. “We are moving to war my lord?”

“Yes, though you and your family will remain here until the King gives the command for the land army to descend on the fools who stand in our way.” Stannis says gritting his teeth.

“But my lord, myself and my men can bring enough force to bring these pirates to their knees.” Ser Axell protests.

Stannis grits his teeth and with some deal of effort at maintaining his patience he says. “That is for the King to decide. After all the lords of the crownlands shall be manning the Royal Fleet and shall be the ones bringing the pirates down to kneel. Now if you would please excuse me I have some important business to attend to.” With that he walks away from the man and goes and speaks with Lord Celtigar. “My lord, do you truly think we can break the pirates?”

“I believe we could have done so had the King followed my advice. But as ever King Robert puts more import on getting a job done quickly rather than thinking out a long lasting strategy. At least this time Velaryon is not here to begin spreading false will and such.” Celtigar says.

“Indeed,” Stannis responds before he whispers. “Did you ever find out what happened to Velaryon that day?”

“Yes, my lord.” Celtigar responds, his voice soft. “The man is working with his cousin Lucerys, and they are beginning to plan for something or the other involving the Targaryens. Either it is a power grab or they are working towards restoring those dragons to the throne. Whatever it is I have my own men working on sorting that problem out.”

Stannis nodded. “Is it something that we need to bring to Robert’s attention?”

“Not at the moment my lord. We cannot afford to be warring on more than one front just now.” Lord Celtigar says.

Stannis nods just as Ser Davos appears and says. “The ships are already my lord.”

Stannis nods and walks onto the Fury, and begins preparing for the battle to come. When he is armoured and prepared mentally, he steps out on the deck and brings his horn to his lips and blows. The sound of the horn brings the ships ready and into formation, they sail out from the docks of the Blackwater in a pincer formation. Battle is coming and Stannis feels his heart rate begin to speed up.

The pirate ships bearing the kraken of House Greyjoy come into view soon enough and Stannis draws his sword and roars for the boulders to be readied and then he gives the order for them to be thrown. The ensuing chaos reminds him of his first naval battle, this time he is determined to see a different outcome. The fighting begins in earnest when different ships begin crashing into one another, the screams of the dying are heard, arrows are loosed and boulders are thrown the battle rages.

Stannis gets his own taste of hand to hand combat, when the Fury rams into one ship with a snake on its prow. They storm onto the enemy ship and Stannis begins swinging his sword, hacking and slashing. Cutting men down, cutting them down and roaring his challenge for all to hear. The battle lust has taken over him and now he will only be sated by the sight of blood, enemy blood. He swings his sword and hacks away at the enemy, cutting, slashing, ducking and dodging doing all he can to ensure that they are brought down low.

They move from one ship onto another, the battle bringing the two forces together and then apart, and together again. Stannis’s sword is stained red with blood, and his armour is covered in it as well as in the sea. The fighting continues, he swings and blocks and gets hit a fair few times, and yet still he continues onto another ship and then another. The bodies begin to grow, Blackwater and the Gullet covered in floating corpses he pushes on and swings his sword again and again. But gods is he growing tired, the fighting continues and still the tiredness is growing, he goes on and pushes through. The enemy begins pushing back and he is not sure how much longer he can go on.

The fighting continues and Stannis manages to raise his sword and move on from ship to ship hacking and slashing, cutting down men left, right and centre. By the gods is he tired now, there are so many of them, he has killed more men in this one fight than he has done in any previous fight before this, he thinks. The battle rages and Stannis can hear the sounds of steel on steel, can see the sparks flying from his sword and the various combatants that he is fighting. He can see the blood on his sword and he can feel the pain in his shoulders and arms as the blows continues to rain down on him.

Just as he has cut down whom he thinks is a captain in the pirate army, he hears a horn sounding and more ships coming from the horizon, bearing the three headed dragon of House Targaryen.


	18. Northern Wolf

**2 nd Month of 287 A.C.  Saltspear**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

Ned and his men had welcomed in the New Year fighting Ironborn. He had thought that after crushing Victarion Greyjoy and his men at Sea Dragon Point the Ironborn would lose heart and retreat back to their islands. He had been wrong, oh so very wrong. Urrigon Greyjoy the fourth brother of Balon Greyjoy had brought Ironborn and sellsails to attack and raid around the Rills and so Ned had brought his men to fight the man. A fierce battle had ensued and on the banks of the Saltspear Ned had personally seen to Urrigon Greyjoy killing him and breaking the Ironborn host. Driving them back into the sea, whether or not that would stop the attacks on the north he was not sure, but when a request for aid had come from Seagard he had found that he could not refuse and so he and his men were now discussing the best ways in which they could aid Seagard and the Mallisters.

“The Ironborn will not come again, or at least not any time soon. Seagard has more pressing need of our swords now. And King Robert has asked us to spare the riverlands as much aid as we can.” Ned says.

Lord Willam Dustin, Brandon’s old friend says. “Aye, and I do believe Barrowtown should be fine and defensible. Besides Lord Rodrik has said he and his men shall stay behind to hold the Rills and come to Barrowtown’s aid should the need arise.”

Ned looks at said lord and asks. “This is agreeable to you Lord Rodrik? For if it is not speak now and we can change this.”

The old Lord Ryswell shakes his head and says. “It is perfectly agreeable to me my lord. We have a duty and should those iron scum come crawling back here, I do intend to make sure they never forget why they never conquered the north.”

Ned nods his head and turns to ask Lord Roose. “My lord, how many casualties did we suffer during this latest battle? And how many men can we afford to leave behind?”

Bolton is silent for a moment and then he says. “We suffered some 1,000 deaths my lord. But that should not dent our strength too badly. We can afford to leave behind at least 5,000 men if my estimations are correct.”

Ned nods at this then looking at Lord Rodrik says. “Very well then, you shall have an extra 5,000 men here with you my lord. Mors Umber shall be the one commanding that host, and he will know to follow your commands and directives. Now then, two of Balon Greyjoy’s brothers are dead and their strength is weakening. And yet I have the feeling that perhaps there is something that they are not showing, a card they have up their sleeves.”

His great uncle Benjen spoke then. His voice hoarse. “Euron Crow’s Eye my lord. In the days of Lord Beron Stark there was a similar sort of man, I forget his name now but he was of the Crow’s Eye temperament, mad and very, very unpredictable. That he has not come to fight in the north or elsewhere, makes me think that perhaps he is being saved for some special reason.”

“But what reason could that be? We cannot afford to wait around, hoping that the gods will give us the light to see the reasoning of a man as mad and foolish as Balon Greyjoy. We must act and we must act soon.” Ned said.

Lord Galbert Glover spoke up in agreement. “Aye, Lord Eddard is right. Whilst it might be preferable to wait and see what the Greyjoys throw our way next, I would much rather be on the march to confront them head on than wait and see if they come and fight.”

Galbert had sounded a lot like his older brother Ethan just then and Ned steeled himself against the ghosts of the past. “Uncle Benjen,” he began. “What would you suggest we do? You fought the Greyjoys the last time they struck out.”

His uncle Benjen whilst not as aggressive or knowledgeable as his brother Brandon was wise in his own way and a very talented general. “I say we march on Seagard and prepare for whatever trials and tribulations might be thrown our way as we march.”

“You believe the Ironborn might confront as we march?” Ned asks.

“I believe they would be foolish not to. This whole thing has shown that they are not as foolish as previous Ironborn had been. Balon Greyjoy has clearly learnt from his father and he knows the art of direct and indirect confrontation. There will be those who will seek to advance their own aims and side with the Ironborn to avoid becoming thralls and such. We must be prepared for such a thing.” Benjen replied.

Ned ran a hand through his hair and then looked at the map before them. “If they are going to attack us as we march, the places they are more than likely to do such a thing are the Fever River as well as near the Cape of Eagles.”

“You do not think Lord Walder Frey will aid us and allow us to cross through the Twins my lord?” Lord Rickard Karstark asks.

Ned sighs. “He will aid us, but there will be other things we will need to consider. I intend to march towards the cape once we have crossed and to hit the Ironborn from the right and then surround them. If we can keep them from getting to Seagard that will be even better.”

“Has there been word from the capital my lord?” Lord Rodrik asked then, and Ned knew he was worried about his brother Ser Mark who served on Robert’s Kingsguard.

Ned was silent for a moment and then said. “There was a brief summary of the battle of the gullet my lord. It appears that the blockade of King’s Landing was ended by Lord Stannis Baratheon, though the presence of a fleet bearing the Targaryen banner brought the battle to the land. As to what more happened the letter does not say.”

There is a grim silence at that as they all ponder on what has occurred in King’s Landing, Ned feels woefully incompetent during that moment, if Brandon were here he would break the tension with a laugh and a jest. All Ned can do is remain silent until Lord Umber speaks. “And what of the battle tactics my lord?”

Ned thinks through everything that he has observed of the past few battles and considers his words before saying. “I shall command the vanguard. Lord Umber you shall hold the centre, Lord Bolton the reserve. Lord Dustin the left and Lord Karstark shall command the right. We march at first light tomorrow.”

The meeting at an end, Ned retires to the godswood where he prays for his family, that they are all well and that Catelyn manages to give birth to their child safely and that she remains healthy. He prays that they all survive this war and the winter as it comes to an end. His prayers come to an end when he hears a cough, he looks up to see Lord Willam standing there looking somewhat sheepish. “Forgive me for bothering you at prayer my lord, but I had a question to ask.”

Ned nods and says. “Go on Willam.”

The man stands there for a moment and then asks. “How is Jon doing my lord? I know it is none of my business but I am curious, after all those rumours as well I just wish to know how he is doing.”

Ned nods he owes the man that much at least. “He is doing well Willam. He is growing every day, and he looks more and more like her with each passing day. I pray that he will grow to be a better man than his father and that he will never know the heartbreak that his mother did.”

Willam nods and says. “That is all we can hope for. I have spoken to Barbrey about some of those rumours and she says she did not spread them. So I have taken to looking into it a bit more. I promise you, nothing shall reach that level again my lord.”

Ned smiles and says. “You have my thanks Willam.” With that they go their separate ways and in the morning they are off marching to yet another battle. They march quickly and without rest for around three days and it is this he thinks that gives the Ironborn a chance to attack them, oh they are clever about it, wearing disguises but their obvious lack of secrecy marks them out. The party of Ironborn are slaughtered, Ned barely having to whet Ice before they are all dead. They ride on and once they are passed the twins with Lord Walder adding his men to their cause they are at peace for the most part.

They reach the Cape of Eagles to find boats and ships there, Ned orders them burnt so that the Ironborn cannot escape should the battle go that way. One man they capture during the burning says that the Ironborn under Rodrik Greyjoy are already on their way to Seagard, with no time to warn Lord Mallister, Ned orders his men to march. They reach the Ironborn host some six miles from the Cape of Eagles. The battle is fierce, Ned swinging his sword, hacking and slashing, hacking and slashing, cutting men down drowning Ironman’s bay in Ironborn blood. Hacking and slashing, cutting, ducking and dodging doing all he can to avoid the axes or hammers of his enemy.

The battle continues pushing them against the walls of Seagard, Ned swings Ice again and again cutting through one man then another man, his armour getting covered in blood spatter and mud and dirt. Ice is red, his vision is red, all he sees is red and he keeps on swinging his sword. Hacking away at the Ironborn and cutting, and ducking and blocking when necessary. He receives a fair few blows as he goes along, his armour denting, wounds opening but he pushes on regardless determined to end this threat and not give the Ironborn the hold they so desperately need.

The bell is ringing somewhere in the distance, and from speaking with Catelyn, Ned can guess that it is the booming tower. He hears something and then more hooves as more men arrive, the Mallisters are not one to miss a party such as this, that is what Brandon and Robert would say, to Ned it is duty that makes him continue to end one life after another, after another. The action is getting tiring, and the battle continues, his tiredness begins costing him as he gets a cut, and then a dent to his armour. The battle continues and Ned feels sweat begin to drip down his face and into his eyes and gods is he tired. Still he keeps fighting, swinging his sword and drenching it in blood.

Tiredness is beginning to engulf him and he does not think he can continue fighting for much longer, still he puts one foot in front of the other and swings Ice and cuts through another line of Ironborn who come swinging towards him, towards their deaths. He sighs internally, war, he will never understand it nor does he want to, what make someone so keen for it. There is no glory in it, he learnt that after fighting off the mountain clans when he and Robert were but boys. And now he is forced to fight and fight, he couldn’t save Lyanna, he couldn’t save father or Brandon, he knows not what he fights for now. A deep cut into his side causes him to wince, and Catelyn’s face flashes before his eyes, Robb’s and then Jon’s and then Sansa’s and then his unborn child. And he knows then what he fights for, he pushes on swinging and hacking, cutting and cutting.  


	19. Salt and Iron

**Seventh Month of 287 A.C.: Pyke**

**Prince Maron Greyjoy**

The rebellion had started off as some grand idea in his father’s head. A way to bring back the old way in true Ironborn fashion. What could possibly go wrong, with a male Targaryen heir still left across the narrow sea, Robert Baratheon’s strength was not what it could be, and as such his father had meant to take advantage of that. Of course as ever nothing seemed to have gone according to plan, uncle Victarion and his men had been slain in the north, uncle Urrigon and his men had died in the north also. Uncle Euron was captured and rotting in a cell in King’s Landing, and the Iron Fleet was now nothing more than a distant memory, it would take one more blow before the lords began abandoning father.

It seemed that Ser Harras Harlaw was about the share some of that bad news. “Prince Rodrik is dead Your Grace. Slain by Jason Mallister at Seagard. His forces were routed and beaten by the northmen as they tried to flee.”

There was a long silence as they all took that in, that was another piece of news that would hit mother hard. “You are certain of this? Rodrik is indeed dead and not just a prisoner?” father asks. “You saw his body?” there is a hint of pleading.

“I saw him fight Lord Jason Mallister myself Your Grace. I was caught up fighting some riverman or the other but I did see him fight and I saw him fall.” Harras responds.

Father is silent for a very long time and then he merely says. “Thank you, you are dismissed.” Once the man is gone, father mutters. “Didn’t go and aid his prince, and survived when he should have died. Not a true Ironborn. Now tell me Shrike what have the gods seen fit to tell you?”

The shrike was a terrifying man, tall with seaweed for hair and a sharp manner that left Maron feeling very off edge. His voice was like thunder. “The Drowned God has told me that a great battle will come to these islands soon enough. The Stag King will not rest until he has brought these islands to his Greenland ways. It is your duty as King to avoid this.”

“And how do I do that? I have done all you have asked and I am without a son and four brothers now.” Father responds.

“Do you doubt the power of the Drowned God and his prophet? Why would I lie to you? I say that a great battle shall come and that you shall be victorious and it shall be so. These defeats that you have suffered have only been setbacks so that the Drowned God might test your faith.” The shrike replied.

“And what plans would you have me make then?” father asks.

“Plan? You do not need a plan Balon, you merely need your faith. The drowned god will do the rest you shall see.” The shrike replies.

“So I am to allow my men and my family to remain here waiting for the Greenlanders to turn up and bring down my walls and my faith will see to it that they are beaten?” father asks.

The shrike nods and says. “Yes a great flood will come when they try to take Pyke and they shall all fall and be broken.” With that he stands and leaves.

Once the man is gone father takes a deep sip of wine and then says. “You are not to tell your mother of Rodrik’s death, and you are especially not to tell Asha and Theon they are too young to know this truth just yet.”

Maron nods and then asks. “What of the Shrike will you listen to his advice and do nothing?”

His father snorts. “I will do as I must. I will not surrender to the Greenlanders and I will not do nothing. We will fight and we will bleed the Greenlanders every step of the way. You will have command of the walls and will lead the men in fighting the Greenlanders as they land at Pyke. Dagmer Cleftjaw shall command the castle.”

“And what will you do father?” Maron asks.

“I will wait here and plot for another move.” His father says.

Maron nods and then leaves his father’s solar, he then makes his way over to his own rooms where his wife Selena is waiting for him, she greets him with a hungry kiss and when they break apart she asks. “What news was there?”

He takes a deep breath and says. “Rodrik is dead. We are losing this war my love. And I know not how to stop it.”

“Will they be coming here my love?” his wife asks him, her hands cradling her stomach.

Maron notices the gesture and says. “I believe so yes. They have nowhere else to go but Pyke, and it is where father remains and where that idiot the Shrike also remains. There will be too much fighting for you to safely remain here.”

“I will not leave Pyke whilst you remain here my love. I will not flee and leave you to your fate.” Selena says.

Maron sighs and then asks. “And what of our unborn child? Will you allow it to be taken to the Greenlands and raised by those who hate it and us? You both would be better suited in Blacktyde where at least you can remain safely hidden.”

“I will only go if you come with us my love. And as I know you will not leave Pyke, neither shall I.” Selena says.

Maron groans in frustration and says “Very well then. But for now, tell me my love what news have you had from your father?”

His wife is silent for a moment and then she says. “There are pockets of the faith sprouting up everywhere on Blacktyde and the Shrike is losing power almost everywhere on the islands as the cost of this rebellion becomes more evident.”

“You think that we could use this to our advantage?” Maron asks.

“I do not know my love. After all the old guard are the ones in charge just now, and they are the ones who give the Shrike his power.” Selena says.

“And to remove them from power I would need either for my father to die or to stage a coup, none of which I am willing to do.” Maron sighs.

“Then we are stuck my love, for I do not think the old guard will step down as willingly. There are people who remember the times of Dagon Greyjoy and remember that he did what he did at the advice of another Shrike, and they wonder if perhaps this shrike is that one come again. It is all a muddle of such nonsense, sometimes I wonder why they can’t just accept that the old way is dead.” Selena states.

“Because then they would have nothing to hold onto and nothing to speak of. It is times like these that I wonder if perhaps it would have been best had Aegon the Dragon scoured the islands clean. And then I thank the drowned god that he did not, for then I would never have been born and neither would you.” Maron says taking his wife’s hand.

His wife smiles at him and says. “I too am glad. But there must be another way for this to end peacefully. After all your father must know that he cannot win this battle, no matter what the Shrike says.”

Maron is about to reply when there is a knock on the door the Cleftjaw pops his head round and says. “Sorry to bother you my prince but it is time.” Maron nods stands and kisses his wife and promises to return to her, he then goes and gets himself armoured, that done he stands atop the wall of Pyke next to the eastern tower watching and waiting.

They come in the dead of night their siege engines pounding away at the ground, Maron stands atop the wall and watches it all with a keen eye, he knows he is not the heir his father wanted but he will damned well do his job. He barks out orders and see arrows kill some of the men on the ground before the wall but it is not enough, as the arrows begin flying back and forth he stands down from the wall and begins preparing for the wall to be breached.

The wall falls down as the sun begins peeking through the clouds, a massive roar sounding like a dragon waking. Maron is the first one down the stairs to meet the invaders, swinging his sword hacking and slashing at those coming through the breach. Swinging his sword, cutting men down to size, hacking and slashing, cutting, ducking and dodging, and doing all that he can to lessen the numbers of the Greenlanders. More of them keep coming and more of them begin falling prey to his blade, which is wet with blood, and the fighting continues.

He takes a few sharp knocks from a man with a bear on his armour, but Maron pushes back and fights hard. Swinging his sword, cutting, slashing and swinging, doing all he can. The man is a skilled swordsman and Maron ends up with a fair few cuts and bruises himself, but still he pushes on, swinging his sword, cutting and ducking, dodging and fighting. Doing what he can to remain alive. He swings his sword again and again and eventually the bear man is brought down low, bleeding from half a dozen wounds.

The battle rages on and Maron goes with the flow, swinging his sword hacking away, cutting and digging and swinging and slashing. His foes begin to tire out as does he and they all begin to make mistakes, Maron himself nearly gets cut to pieces by a man with a lion’s head helm, he only manages to fend him off using dirty tactics he used fighting his brother Rodrik. Covered in blood and gore, and losing the feeling in his arms, Maron begins to retreat to the southwest corner of the tower field, and begins to rest there. That is at least until something clonks him on the head and knocks him out.

When he comes to he is in a tent, and there are two men staring at him with hard expressions on their faces. “Where…. Where am I?” he asks gasping through the pain in his head.

“A command tent. Do you know who I am?” the bigger of the two men asks.

“King Robert?” Maron asks taking a guess based on the man’s black hair and black beard.

“Good so you have some sense in your head. Do you know why I have spared you and brought you here?” the king asks.

“I confess I do not.” Maron replies.

“It is because this war that your father started is over. We have taken Pyke and the other islands, and though your father refused to bend the knee and paid with his head for that, your uncle Rodrik Harlaw assured me that you would see sense. So tell me Maron Greyjoy will you bend the knee, or do you too wish to join the realms of the dead?” the king asks.

He knows Rodrik would likely spit in the king’s face and his father would do the same. Maron however is silent as he thinks and then he asks. “What will happen to my family?”

The king seems to smile at that and Maron feels his fists clench. “If you bend the knee, your brother and sister shall be fostered out to Winterfell and Riverrun respectively. And you and your wife and unborn child shall remain here on Pyke, with the full rights due your station. Should you refuse to bend the knee, your family will be exterminated and your uncle shall become Lord of the Iron Islands.”

Maron considers this for a long moment and then says softly. “Then I will bend the knee and acknowledge you as my King…. Your Grace.”

A few hours later in front of those remaining on Pyke and many others Maron Greyjoy formally bends the knee and swears an oath of fealty to Robert Baratheon. As he says goodbye to his sister and brother he tells them. “Remember who you are, you are Greyjoys of Pyke and We Do Not Sow.” Selena takes his hand as the ships depart.


	20. Blood

**2 nd Month of 288 A.C. Pentos**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

It never gets any easier, the fighting, the long months away from home. The constant fear of knowing that any day might be his last, the worry over whether or not Aegon will live on as well. That had been his fear throughout this second campaign in the disputed lands fighting for the second sons, this time the war had lasted for a year as the second sons had turned their cloak from fighting for Myr to fighting for Tyrosh, they had come away with the winner’s purse though the boundaries between three cities were much the same as they had been before the war. There were other considerations as well, Ser Benedict Rivers the captain of the Second Sons had died during the war, and his replacement Moro was some sort of treacherous cutthroat, and as such Daeron knew he and his brother would not be welcome in the Second Sons again.

Of course that was something he would need to bring up in the meeting to come. For now he needed news of Westeros. “How did the Ironborn rebellion go? Is the usurper’s morale dented?”

Silence for a moment and then Ser Willam Darry says. “The Ironborn lost their rebellion and they lost it quite badly Your Grace. They did not win a single battle, and Balon Greyjoy refused to bend the knee and so lost his head. Euron Greyjoy rots in a cell in King’s Landing and Balon’s second son Maron has bent the knee.”

Daeron sighs then and asks. “And what of Maegor’s fleet? How did that fare against the royal one?”

“It did some damage and I can safely say Stannis Baratheon is in no fit position to command ships again. But apart from that they did not do more, and Maegor Targaryen himself is dead as are his sons. The King himself it seems was tempted to come to Lorath and burn it to the ground but was convinced otherwise.” Ser Willam says.

Feeling the frustration beginning to build inside of him Daeron says. “So it seems we are back to square one. Our attempts to weaken the usurper are met by resistance. Is there any chance we can inflict one more war on them?”

The cheesemonger speaks then. “According to the spider there is not a chance anyone in Westeros will rebel against the Usurper. With this latest victory he has shown how strong his hold in the Iron Throne is, at least to the Westerosi. Though there are some in the free cities who might be willing to cause some trouble.”

Interested Daeron asks. “What do you mean by that magister?”

The cheesemonger smiles then and says. “I have friends across the Free Cities some of whom would be more than willing to see you restored to your throne. Mainly because seeing a Targaryen on the throne would benefit them more in terms of trade. Outposts such as Volantis often had good relations with the dragons before the rebellion, the new regime has taken a harsh stance with them. The elephants will advocate peace openly, but in private they hunger for war.”

“Would they though? They are known for their advocacy of trade and peace. The last time Volantis went to war they lost in the century of blood. Lys, Myr and Tyrosh have been warring with one another since anyone can remember. Who else is there?” his mother asks.

At this the cheesemonger smiles and says. “Braavos.”

“Are you sure? Braavos is earning quite some debt from the Iron throne already if what the spider’s reports say are true. Why would they risk it all for some war and some quick payback when they could just as easily wait it out and then come and cripple the Westerosi economy when the time comes?” Daeron asks.

The cheesemonger throws his hands up in frustration then and says. “You are right of course. But then the question is how do we go about weakening the usurper’s hold on the throne without having spies within the higher echelons of the political structure?”

Something about this sounds oddly strange. “I had thought the Spider was working on ensuring that such people were in place cheesemonger? What do you mean the spies are no longer there?”

The cheesemonger begins stuttering and says. “I misspoke Your Grace. What I truly meant to say was that some of the spies who could whisper the necessary poison in the king’s ear are now being put to finding out where you are per the king’s orders. There are other options open to us. Such as Euron Greyjoy.”

“Greyjoy? Is the man not a dangerous cutthroat who would sell out his own mother if it got him a chance at winning something more than his station in life?” Daeron asks. When the others look at him askance he merely shrugs his shoulders and says. “The soldiers in the disputed lands had fought alongside the man.”

“Whilst it is true that the man has a somewhat questionable reputation Your Grace, he would be most open to working for you and causing some chaos. After all he does want the Iron Islands and I do think that he might be best served in delivering such a thing.” The cheesemonger says.

“And how would you know that cheesemonger? After all Euron Greyjoy sits in the black cells rotting away.” His mother says.

The cheesemonger smiles then and says. “Varys has his ways of communicating with those of whom he is not supposed to communicate with. It is why he is so good at his job. He has spoken to Greyjoy and has managed to get agreement from him. We just need your agreement Your Grace, and Greyjoy shall break free.”

Daeron considers this for a moment and then says. “And Varys has gotten the man’s guarantee that he will not do anything untoward that would harm the mission once he has been released?” when the cheesemonger nods. Daeron sighs and says. “Very well I approve. Send word to the spider, let us begin this dance a new.”

After that talk turns to other matters. Ser Willam speaks. “Word on the street is that there is to be an election for the Prince of Pentos. Will you take part magister?”

The cheesemonger laughs then and says. “Oh I wish I could, but alas after my marriage to Serra I was disbarred from ever competing in such things. Not that I truly care about it, after all I have enough power and contacts left to influence Pentoshi politics for many generations to come.”

Curious Daeron asks. “And where is your wife Illyrio. If you do not mind the question, it is just that I have heard so much about her, but I have not seen her for some time.”

The cheesemonger laughs slightly then and says. “Serra recently found out more about her family and as such has gone to track them down and see whether or not there is any connection left between them. She was but a little girl last she saw her mother and brother, she wishes to know them again. I am sure you can sympathise.”

Daeron nods and then talk turns to Volantis. “The tigers are causing trouble once more. It does appear as though there will be work to do for sellswords in the next few years.” He says.

“What gives you the impression that the tigers will ever get more than some fraction of power? For the past few centuries they have threatened to come back to power only for some level headed man to come in and say what needs to be said and Volantis avoids war.” Mopatis says.

Daeron looks at the man and then says. “Slaver’s Bay has begun acting up as well. It does seem as though something is causing all of these places to begin boiling away like a cauldron pot. Something will give in the next few years mark my words.”

There is some muttering at this but then the cheesemonger asks. “And how has it been serving in the Second Sons Your Grace? I hear that Ser Benedict died during the latest war in the disputed lands and his replacement as captain is just as fierce with much more intimidating.”

At this Daeron sighs and says. “Indeed it is true, and whilst I will miss Ser Benedict, I find myself wondering if it would best to leave the second sons for now. After all Moro is a man with a reputation already and such people are often the worst to work for.”

“So what are you suggesting then Your Grace?” his mother asks. “What will you do if you are not a member of the Second Sons? Will you and your brother remain here in Pentos?”

He can hear the hopeful tone in his mother’s voice and though it crushes him to put down her hopes he finds he has to. “No mother, unfortunately that is something that we cannot afford to do. So long as Aegon and I are away from Pentos, the usurper shall not be able to find us or yourselves as easily. No I will join the Golden Company and bring them to heel one way or another.”

“A good plan Your Grace,” the cheesemonger says. “After all red or black a dragon is a dragon and some contracts are writ in blood. The golden company will be more than happy to support you I am sure.”

“What will you do if they are not?” his mother asks.

Daeron looks at her and then says his voice hard as iron. “I will kill them until they do.”

With that the meeting ends and Daeron goes and finds Ashara, pulling her from the lessons she is giving to his younger siblings and they go back to his room where they make love again and again until they are both thoroughly spent.  As the night wears on Ashara’s head on his chest, her hair spread out across them, he sighs and asks. “Ashara, I have a question for you.”

She continues to run a finger across his chest and then says. “Hmmm?”

“What was it like on Dragonstone during the time my brother spent there with Elia and their children?” Daeron asks.

Those haunting violet eyes he loves so much look up at him and she asks. “Why do you wish to know Daeron?”

“I have been thinking about it for so long now. At nights during the war I would wonder why Rhaegar would give up Elia for some northern girl. A mere girl who died when she gave birth, I am sure she gave birth otherwise those two white knights would have come here. I keep trying to puzzle it together and I am struggling to do so.” He says.

Ashara sits up then her hair spilling in front of her face somewhat. “It was a good time to be young. Rhaegar was seen as the future of the kingdoms. Aerys madness was known amongst those lucky enough to be part of Rhaegar and Elia’s inner circle. But theirs was not a marriage of love, they were fond of one another, but after Harrenhal something changed between them. What it was I could not say.”

“You mean they barely slept with one another?” Daeron asks.

“Yes something like that. After all Elia was always bed ridden and too concerned with ensuring that Rhaenys and alter Aegon were safe. Rhaegar, he was too preoccupied with his prophecy. Of course I did not seem them when he returned to King’s Landing for I had returned home then.” Ashara says her hands going to her stomach.

“I am sorry to be bringing this all up again my love. I would take your pain from you if I could.” Daeron says.

His love leans and kisses him then and says. “I know you would. But of course you cannot, so there is no reason to be worrying about it. Worry about the now and what will happen tomorrow, tomorrow.”

 

 


	21. Old Falcon

**Sixth Month of 288 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Jon Arryn**

The Greyjoy Rebellion had left things fairly quiet in King’s Landing, Jon was too old at sixty eight to head off to war and fight. Not when the kingdoms needed to be run by a strong and steady hand. Gods knew Robert was not going to do it whilst on the campaign, there was something about war that seemed to ignite a passion and a desire in the King that worried Jon, and he thought that perhaps it was the king’s Targaryen blood that made him crave war. He deeply hoped it was something that would fade with time as the realm truly could not afford another war, and yet with recent developments it did seem as though such a thing was likely to happen.

“So has anyone been able to find Euron Greyjoy? Or has the man disappeared of the face of the earth?” Robert thundered, his face flushed from wine.

Jon sighed and said. “So far the reports from our scouts have not placed Euron Greyjoy anywhere close to King’s Landing since his escape three days ago. It is very likely that he simply boarded a ship and left.”

“Then how the buggering hells did the man manage to break free from the Black Cells? I had thought it was impossible to do so?” Robert thunders.

Jon looks to the eunuch who says in that simpering tone of his. “It would appear that Greyjoy had some help Your Grace. Someone within the actual guard system became a Greyjoy man and allowed him to escape during the changing of shifts.”

“And how the devils did the man get coin to buy of a guard within my prison? I had thought everything was taken off of him when he was thrown in there?” Robert roars.

The master of laws old Lord Jon Roxton says. “Everything was taken off of him Your Grace. But it appears Euron Greyjoy is quite glib of tongue and managed to enchant the guard in question with promises of gold and women if he allowed him to go.”

“And where is the guard in question?” Robert asks a glint in his eye that worries Jon something serious.

“He is dead Your Grace. He hung himself after confessing to his wrong doing.” Roxton says.

“Dead? The bastard allowed a criminal to get away scot free and then hung himself? By the gods it seems as if everything is getting away from me. Has word been sent to Maron Greyjoy? And if so what has the buggering lord had to say about it?” Robert thunders.

“Word has indeed been sent to Pyke Your Grace. And Maron Greyjoy has been quick to respond. He insists he had no part to play in his uncle’s release and would have been thoroughly content to allow his uncle to rot in the black cells for all eternity. That he has escaped worries Maron Greyjoy beyond measure as he knows his uncle to be a mad man.” Jon says.

“Pah, reassurances that are done on the wind, are not the reassurances I want. Send word to Maron Greyjoy that he is to scour the islands looking for his uncle and if he finds him, he is to kill him, or better yet deliver him to King’s Landing himself. I do not trust these squids, their loyalties are very fluid.” Robert says taking another deep sip of wine.

“You think Greyjoy might have aided his uncle?” Lord Roxton asks, as if desperate to cease onto something, anything that will free him from the blame.

Robert snorts in his wine cup and then bangs it down on the table. “I don’t bloody well know Roxton. But if I had to wager I would that Maron Greyjoy aided his uncle or his uncle had help from the Ironborn.”

“There is another possible explanation for how Euron Greyjoy came to be freed from his cell.” Lord Wylde the master of coin says. “Whilst it is true that it takes only one man to open a cell, to cause a distraction needed for such a man as the crow’s eye to escape one will need many allies and spies to alert the way.”

“What are you suggesting?” Robert asks his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I believe the old enemy is behind this Your Grace. Why else would Greyjoy flee?” Wylde says.

Jon sighs then and asks. “You cannot be serious Lord Wylde? The Targaryens have no reason to have Euron Greyjoy freed. What reason would they have? He has no fleet, he has no men and he has no allies. He is worthless to them.”

“Not necessarily, it was Euron Greyjoy who brought the pirates and the sellsails to fight at the Gullet under his brother’s banner during the Greyjoy rebellion. Euron Greyjoy still has allies amongst the pirates and other cutthroats in the Stepstones. With him freed the Targaryens could look to bring these men under their sway by having Euron Greyjoy lead them and promise him the Iron Islands.” Wylde says.

Jon shakes his head in disbelief but Robert turns to the eunuch and asks. “How likely a possibility is this Lord Varys?”

The eunuch pauses for a moment as he so often does for effect and then he says in that simpering tone of his. “Well Your Grace, from what my little birds have told me, it does appear as though Daeron Targaryen and his mother, more specifically his mother have been making overtures towards those in the Stepstones. Seeking their aid in destabilizing trade in Westeros and between the Iron Throne and the Free Cities. So far they have received little attention, but with Euron Greyjoy escaped and on the loose it is possible this all could change.”

Before Robert can get all excited Jon cuts in. “But this is all of just supposition of course Your Grace. If Daeron Targaryen’s overtures have been rejected beforehand, what is there to say these pirates will accept his overtures with the release of Euron Greyjoy? The man has nothing and these pirates are not so stupid as to go against the Iron Throne.”

Robert’s eyes glisten momentarily and Jon is concerned when his former ward says. “Still perhaps it is time those pirates were taught their place and cleaned out once and for all.”

Jon sighs and says. “You cannot be seriously considering this Your Grace. A war has just ended, marching to yet another war, this time without the actual justification that the Greyjoys gave you would not go over well with your lords.”

“They would understand if the King called his banners to remove the threat of a future and much longer war now. And besides it is their duty to respond when their king calls the banners.” Lord Wylde says.

Robert looks to the eunuch and says. “What do you think master of whispers? Will my men come calling if I ask it of them?”

Varys seems to consider his answer for a very long time before answering and when he does his voice is certain. “I do believe they would. But they would begrudge you that decision Your Grace. They need time to recover from the Greyjoy rebellion, marching off to war on a thin pretext will do you no favours. And there is other news that should be of interest.”

Before Robert can interrupt Jon asks. “And news is this Lord Varys?”

The eunuch smiles at him and says. “There is word from across the narrow sea that trouble is brewing in Tyrosh. It would appear that the Archon has begun collecting the debts that his old predecessors failed to enforce and this has made him largely unpopular with the masses. Such things are also meaning that another election could be called one in which a much more pro Westerosi Archon could be chosen.”

“And how would that come about?” Jon asks praying that the need for more war is not there.

Varys smiles as if sensing Jon’s fears and says. “Why gold would need to exchange hands of course. For though my sources have influence they do not have enough sway to influence the outcome with words alone. Gold will need to be paid for the magisters to select Salim Rogare. Otherwise another fool will come to power and trade shall suffer.”

Jon looks to Lord Wylde and asks. “Does the treasury have enough money in it to ensure for sufficient briberies to be made?”

Wylde begins counting in his head and eventually nods and says. “Yes my lord hand. There should be sufficient funds. Though in the likelihood that there is not, some taxes will need to be raised.”

Robert waves a dismissive hand and says. “Do it if it is needed. Now what other issues do you have for us Spider?”

The eunuch considers for a moment and then says. “Daeron Targaryen has joined the Golden Company.”

There is silence for a moment and then Robert asks. “And how did this come to pass? Last we heard the boy was fighting somewhere in the disputed lands.”

Varys is silent for a moment and then says. “It appears that he has since left the Second Sons for a more favourable rate of pay that the company offers. Both him and his brother.”

“And what of his mother and other siblings? Have your little birds found them yet?” The king asks his tone demanding.

The eunuch has the good grace to blush somewhat. “Unfortunately not Your Grace. Wherever they are hiding, they are being kept hidden masterfully well for even my own eyes cannot find them.”

The eunuch is hiding something but what it is he does not know. The man manages to cover up the awkward silence by then saying. “There is also word from Volantis. It appears Triarch Maegor has died in his sleep opening up a position for another election. The tigers it seems are the favourites to win this election, though the elephants are doing all they can to prevent an actual physical election from happening.”

“And how would they go about doing that?” Jon asks intrigued.

“Bribes and pay offs. They have many allies amongst the merchants of the city, these men are central to ensuring either an election or not. Plus we also have Braavos becoming more involved in Essosi politics whereas before they remain neutral. That is another factor to consider.” Varys says.

“How will this effect trade Lord Wylde?” Jon asks.

The master of coin is slow to respond but when he does he speaks in such a way that makes it easy for Jon and everyone else to understand. “Essentially, incomes will fall from Volanteene trade, and mercantile revenue will also fall. But unless the tigers come to power with a majority or with three triarchs trade should recover just fine.”

“And what are the chances of the Tigers coming into power completely Varys?” Robert asks suddenly interested.

Silence and then. “Quite high Your Grace. It seems that the people of Volantis have grown bored of remaining out of the wars in Essos. It appears that they hunger for glory and for the return of Valyria of old. Lead by the Maegyrs they seem to be beginning to colonize the military and the navy and are looking for expansion. Their agenda it seems has become quite popular with the young of Volantis and even some of the old.”

Robert looks at him then and asks. “What were the terms of the treaty we signed with Lys and Myr at the end of the war of the ninepenny kings Jon?”

With an inkling of where this is going Jon says. “Trade would flow unhindered between the throne and these two cities. And should any outside power bar the three daughters begin hostilities towards them then the throne would come to their defence. As would they should someone come to aggress us.”

Silence and then Robert says. “Keep an eye out on what happens there. And find me those bloody dragons.”


	22. Cold

**6 th Month of 290 A.C. Disputed Lands**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

They had been fighting in the Disputed Lands for almost two years now, whereas before the fighting had always been quick and sharp, here it seemed as though the magisters of Lys and Myr were determined to exhaust every option before eventually calling themselves to the negotiating table. Daeron did not think it would be an exaggeration to say that he had killed more people in this two year period than he had killed in two separate six month stints with the second sons. It was brutal, waking up in the morning smelling the blood and going to bed in the evening smelling of blood. There was only one thing to do to keep your mind sane and that was to find comfort in the arms of a woman, he saw many of the men do it, but he personally could not, it just seemed wrong to sleep with someone who was not his love or his wife.

Today was no different, waking up in the early hours of the morning the sound of the dying and the wounded infected you from the get go. Staggering to put armour on and clear the sleep from your eyes, Daeron would often speak to his brother Aegon before they formed up in the golden company’s lines, and then the battle began afresh. Hacking and slashing away, ending lives, and avoiding being killed. Ducking, swinging, slashing, cutting, and ducking, all over again a process that lasted throughout the day and often left one feeling exhausted it was something that kept happening throughout the day. It did not matter who your opponent was, the first rule of war that Daeron had learnt here in the Disputed Lands was you never gave an inch for you would never freely be given one.

The battle continued raging on, swinging and slashing, hacking, and cutting, Blackfyre was red with blood soon enough, and the battle still continued to flow. Why the free cities, continued to insist on fighting over these lands was something he would never understand. Still he had a job to do and money to earn. He continued fighting, swinging, slashing and hacking, ducking, thrashing about, all these things were beginning to get in the way, but still he fought. He had no choice really he had sealed his fate when he had joined the second sons. A chance to kill Moro was something he was truly looking forward to, but as of yet it did not seem to be happening. Fighting through puddles of blood truly was something that was beginning to be a regular occurrence in his life, his armour was covered in mud and dirt and blood, still the battle continues.

Through and through the chaos, the mud, the dirt all of it in chaos, swinging and slashing, fighting and cutting, ducking and doing all he can to survive. His armour gets a fair few knocks and blows, but eventually he manages to cut down the men swinging and slashing away at him, cutting, ducking and slashing, hacking, cutting, ducking and slashing. The armour is more red than silver, but still it goes on and on, there is no stopping. Slashing and hacking and cutting and hacking, on and on it goes. Through and through, this is all that is happening, the battle is slowly ebbing and flowing, but Daeron suspects that this fight will soon be over those fighting for Myr have lost most of their men and as such it does seem as though things are going their way.

The fighting goes on for another long while, and Daeron is growing more and more tired. But still he pushes on and swings his sword, and the battle rages on. His sword is covered in blood and by the gods is he tired, but still he pushes on, swinging his sword, hacking and slashing, ducking and dodging. Doing everything to push forward, they gained more ground today than they have in previous days, and now he is determined to see that they do not lose that advantage. On it goes, swinging and slashing. Swinging and slashing. Gods it seems to go on and on. Fighting and slashing and fighting and slashing, gods this is a massive problem and pain, by the gods it seems that Myr is going to lose faith very soon. And that is when Moro comes to the fore. Daeron pushes forward through the mass of bodies and begins swinging and slashing, hacking and ducking, dodging and thronging through Moro’s wild swings, eventually a jab and a parry sees Moro impaled on his sword.

This it seems breaks the Myrmen and their sellsword companies, and soon enough Daeron learns of the peace terms being agreed the secession of the Disputed Lands to Lys for the time being. How long that peace treaty will last for he is not sure. Regardless, at the end of the battle, tattered and torn looking forward to going home he is called into the captain General Myles Toyne’s tent. “Your Grace, please do sit down.” Toyne says. “You’ve met Drazno Rogare.” Daeron nods and then Toyne goes on. “He has come here to discuss something I do think would be of interest.”

“Oh?” Daeron says. “And what would this suggestion be?”

Rogare looks very much like he could be a Targaryen for his silver hair and purple eyes, his voice is silk when he says. “I believe that if the Golden Company were to aid me and my family in taking over Lys in exchange for the bounty of the Disputed Lands and a permanent place of residence. As well as support for you Your Grace in getting back the Iron Throne.”

“Whilst this does seem an interesting proposition my lord, I am not sure I can see how you would be able to aid me in getting what is mine by right? And how would you propose we aid you in taking over Lys, when we have just aided your city in taking the Disputed Lands completely away from Myr and Tyrosh. Why should we double cross the people who are paying us our salaries to aid you in something your family has been trying to do for generations?” Daeron asks.

Rogare is silent for a moment and then says. “I believe that this could be a good thing for both of us Your Grace. My family might not be as powerful as it was during the Dance of Dragons and its aftermath, but we still have friends and allies in Lys and elsewhere that could aid us in staging the takeover. The magisters in Lys have lost much support over the years, as they are seen as being greedy and corrupt. We have the people’s ear and as such can win a lot of support for this. As to how we can aid you in taking the Iron Throne, well once we are back in power we shall have access to the full strength of Lys and its financial wealth. Buying off officials in Westeros should not be hard, there is a master of coin Petyr Baelish who has been in our pay for some time, he will do very well as a man we can rely on to destabilize the Westerosi treasury. Not everything need be won with swords and steel Your Grace. Some things can be won by money and financial means, destabilize Westeros’ economy and we shall see rewards.”

Daeron considers this and then turns Myles Toyne and asks. “Ser Myles you are the Captain General of the Company, it is up to you whether or not the company goes through with this. I would have your thoughts.”

Myles Toyne is a smart man a good warrior as well. He is silent and then says. “I believe that this is an offer that is very good. Work in the Disputed Lands shall come to an end very soon Your Grace. We have broken the strength of Myr for a generation now, Tyrosh is in chaos itself. Lys is the one place that remains a power base, I do believe that to refuse this offer would be suicide. The Rogare bank though not as powerful as it was during the age of your forebearers is still very strong recognisable, having their backing when you go to make your claim on the throne, will be very good.”

Daeron nods and then turns to Rogare and asks. “And what is this man Baelish like? Is he a cunning fellow or is he someone who will speak easily when questioned?”

Rogare shakes his head. “No Your Grace. Baelish is someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut. Besides there are things we know about him that could very well shut him down should he consider talking. You need not worry on that count Your Grace. Should you decide to go forward with this plan, we shall be more than inclined to ensure Baelish does not breathe a word of it to anyone.”

Daeron nods. “I would ask what secrets you have of his that could force him into silence, but I know that when the time comes should it ever come you will tell me them effectively. For now though I must ask, how he will implement the plans that we have concocted here without arousing suspicion.”

“Well, he has gotten the confidence of the Hand of the King. He was instrumental in increasing trade and money flow in the customs in Gulltown. He has a head for numbers and as such he knows how to make it seem like there is more money in the coffers than there actually is. And Robert Baratheon is known as a prestigious spender on the things that often take things by chance. He has the king’s ear because of his willingness to spend that which is not there. And that which is there he can secret into accounts in our bank with which they will wait for your spending.” Rogare says.

Daeron nods and then asks. “And what of the debt the usurper has accrued? How will the man deal with that, so that I do not have that burden through the time between now and when I take the throne?”

Rogare smiles at that and Daeron gets the image of a cat. “He will do what he needs to ensure that the debt is gone when you come calling Your Grace. Have no fear. Now is this agreeable to you?”

Daeron nods. “Aye it seems agreeable to me. We shall sign the papers now and be done with it. When would you wish for the company to come into service for you to take Lys from those who would deny it from you?”

“Next month if that is agreeable to you and Ser Myles Your Grace. The sooner we get to action the sooner we can capitalise on the chaos in the daughters. It is time for us to strike and strike fast.” Rogare says, before getting up and leaving.

Once the man is gone Daeron turns to Toyne and asks. “What did you make of the man?”

Toyne never one for overt words takes his time before replying. “I think he is a snake, but one whom we can use to our own advantage. He hungers for power and we can give it to him. But we shall take more than he bargained for.”

Daeron smiles then and asks. “So the plan the eunuch came up with is in action then?”

Toyne nods. “Very much so. It is time for us to cut the head of this snake and begin dismantling the Free Cities, soon enough the usurper shall come knocking and you can find your nephew Your Grace.”

Daeron smiles and says. “Indeed, it does seem though that there is something more at play here. The Eunuch and the cheesemonger have some other game plan there must be.”

Toyne nods and says. “I can look into it for you once we get back to Pentos.”

Daeron nods and is about to say something when his squire and Jon Connington burst into the tent and say. “Prince Aegon has gone missing Your Grace!”


	23. Evensong

**6 th-12th Month of 290 A.C. Cells of Tyrosh**

**Prince Aegon Targaryen**

He had lost track of time fairly quickly inside his cell. He had not seen daylight since the end of the battle, they had come and taken him whilst he had been celebrating with one of the whores that travelled round with the company. She had been working for them and now he was gone, missing with no clue or sense as to where he might be. He thought he had heard some of the captors say Tyrosh but he knew not, and it hurt too much to ask, his mouth was sore and bruised. The captors whoever they were, were brutal and not prone to sympathy, he was lucky if they fed him, or even gave him water. Aegon Targaryen genuinely did think he was going to die here in the middle of nowhere far from home without anyone to come and find him.

The waiting was not the hardest part though, it was knowing what would come next when the waiting ended that scared him. He had fought in many battles and killed many men since the age of sixteen but this, this was what scared him. The sounds of the irons being heated and the wrack moving, and the screams that soon became his own, and the sight of blood in his eyes and all of the nightmares that during the day he could normally keep at bay. They all came flooding to the forefront when he was questioned. He would go days without water or food if he did not answer how they wanted him to answer, and in the beginning his stubbornness had seen him lashed and put on the wrack for a week at a stretch, he knew he bore the marks of it.

The doors opened and some light was briefly let in before it closed once more and the soft voice of his torturer came to him. “So my prince, have you considered the questions we asked you last time?” when Aegon nods the man asks. “And what have you decided?”

“Go to hell, all of you.” He says. And then the wrack begins to whir to life and the pain in his limbs comes flaring back again, soon enough he feels the scrape of a knife on his flesh and blood seeping out and the cold steel. He screams and screams, roaring for his vengeance which will be bloody he is sure of it.

“Tell me what Daeron Targaryen plans to do. Tell me where your family are and what they are plotting.” The man says in his soft voice.

“I do not know what my brother plans on doing,” Aegon says barely holding back a scream. “I do not know for he does not tell me nor does he include me in his councils.”

The wrack tightens and he begins to feel things pop. “Where are the rest of your family? Where are they hiding?” the man asks his voice not changing in tone or volume

“I don’t know!” Aegon yells above the pain and the ringing in his ears. “I have not seen them since we were in Braavos.” A lie but one he has practiced over and over.

“I do not believe you are telling the truth my prince. Tighten the screws and keep this going.” The soft voiced man says and the screws tighten and the wrack extends and then contracts and Aegon screams his pain.

This line of questioning continues for what feels like an age, always the same questions about where Daeron is and what his plans are. They no longer ask about where mother and his siblings are which either means they have given up on them or they have found them and they are dead. He sincerely hopes they are not dead otherwise this would have been for nothing. As time goes by the punishments become more and more extreme, he is taken down from the wrack bloodied and bruised and beaten and beaten until he can barely stand, they whip him and beat him, drag him through the mud and shit of the cell and then beat him, they burn him and beat him.

One day the door opens and they dunk his head into cold water until he is drowning in it, and then pull him up and force feed him food until he is throwing up everything. Blood, food, shit, all of it comes out on that day. And then the punishment continues, the beatings get worse and when they stop coming to his room he is covered in bruises and marks, his clothes are torn and broken and there is still no sign of Daeron. That is when the voices begin to echo in his head. He does not remember much of his father, beyond the ravings and it is his father’s voice that is echoing in his head. “Scum, unworthy of the dragon. You are breaking before these commoners Aegon. You have a dragon’s name but you are not a dragon, no more than your fool of a brother or mother.” The voice keeps saying this and over time it becomes easier to listen to it than to fight it. The whippings continue as do the beatings and once or twice he swears they are trying to take his eyes out.

The pain continues and he disappears inside himself, he smells burning and hears screams, and though he suspects that it is he who is screaming he does not listen. He tunes it all out and allows numbness to engulf him. His captors laugh at him and tell him he is a chained dragon or nothing but a bitch now. He is broken and chained, and there is naught for him to do but accept his fate. And then the door to his cell opens and the soft voice man speaks. “Leave us, there are things that I and the prisoner need to discuss.” The guards leave and Aegon looks at the man, he has a pale complexion and even paler eyes. “You are coming with me to a safe place now.” He is dragged out by different men wearing pink coloured clothes and dragged to a point known simply as the horn.

“Prince Aegon, my apologies for some of the things that have been done to you.” A new voice says, this one louder and silkier. “It was necessary but seeing as you have resisted some of what we have done, a new thing has been decided. Tell us what you know and we shall aid you in discovering what it is you want.”

Aegon looks at the man and asks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are not a fool my prince. You know who it is we are working with. Tyrosh is going through turmoil many of my enemies wish to have my position and others wish for me to remove our alliance with the Iron Throne. They are working towards capturing many things. Tell me what it is you want from life and I shall make it so that it can be done for you.” The man replies.

Aegon thinks for a moment and then says. “The Iron Throne I want my birth right back.”

The man smiles and then says. “Then we are working towards the same goal. Your brother has sold you out in order to bring himself closer to the throne. He is working with those who would break your family in half and end it all. What I propose is that you give us some information to discredit your brother and we shall do all we can to see you sit the throne.”

Aegon pauses for a moment and then asks. “How long have I been a prisoner and where am I?”

“For six moons have you remained in Tyrosh a prisoner so long as you refused to co-operate. Now will you co-operate?” the man asks, Aegon realises this man must be the Archon.

Aegon thinks and then smiles and says. “Yes what do you wish to know?”

For the next month, they spend their time discussing various things, plans, strategies that Aegon was party to that he knows Daeron was working on before he was kidnapped, and he speaks of the weaknesses in the Golden Company and in return the Archon provides him with information on Westeros. Its strengths and defences and during one such conversation says. “There is an agent of ours working in the usurper’s small council Your Grace. A man named Petyr Baelish. He is working hard to fund our war effort.”

“I see and what is he doing to ensure the war effort continues?” Aegon asks.

“He has been taking money from the crown’s treasury and putting it into a separate account and working hard to cover his tracks. He has also talked the king into spending lavish amounts of money on tourneys and such. And he has also discovered the root cause of enmity between the king and his best friend.” The Archon says.

“And what is that?” Aegon asks.

“The deaths of your niece and nephew as well as something that happened at Harrenhal many moons ago relating to one Ashara Dayne. I believe she has been in your brother’s company? She is working for the usurper.” The Archon says.

Shocked Aegon asks. “How do you know this?”

“Because the man was fool enough to boast about it when we were talking through correspondence and when I went to King’s Landing many years ago. He says he fucked her and then wooed her into doing his bidding. Then there is the information that your own brother held back from you all.” The man says.

“What information? Daeron was always slightly tight lipped but anything of import he would have said to mother.” Aegon says.

“Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark’s child survived. A boy named Jon Snow who lives in Winterfell as Eddard Stark’s bastard. This is the information that your brother has hidden from all of you for so long. You want the throne the boy must die and your brother has never been able to order the hit.” The Archon says.

Aegon is completely shocked by this, his mind warped by the pain and the anger of not being rescued is stunned and horrified. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks.

“You have served me well my prince. You have provided me with enough information to cripple Lys and Myr for a generation. And now I am repaying the favour. There stands in your way a legitimate threat. And it needs to be removed. As does your brother.” The archon says. “It pains me to say so, but your brother must also go, if the trade deals we have agreed are to go through. For your brother is very conservative and is not like to agree to some of the numbers we have. He must go and he must go soon.”

Still reeling from the news he asks. “What do you wish for me to do?”

“Kill your brother and send me his head as proof of your commitment to this pact. And I shall deal with Jon Snow.” The Archon says.

Aegon nods and then says. “Daeron will be highly protected when it comes time. He is barely ever without guard. How shall I deal with his guards?”

The Archon smiles and says. “I have men in the company who will take care of the guards and one of them is a leader in the company. Kill Daeron and send me his head and we have a deal.”

Aegon shakes the man’s outstretched hand and says. “Deal. When do you wish for me to leave?”

“At first light tomorrow until then our pale friend here shall speak with you about the plans.” The Archon says leaving the horn.

Once he is gone Aegon looks at the pale man, the man who was his torturer and says. “Did you get all of that?” the man nods and then Aegon says. “Leave for the north tomorrow. And bring Jon Snow back here.”


	24. Wolf, Wolf

**Second Month of 291 A.C. White Harbour**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

Since the Ironborn had been defeated some three years ago, Westeros had been at peace and Ned was glad for it. He would never understand the hunger some men had for war and battle, the death and destruction that came with it, had often left him sweating for recompense and some form of relief. He had found that relief in Catelyn and their children, and that the threats to them were now steadily reducing, he had seen fit to allow Jon to foster in Barrowton, though the boy as well as Robb had come with him for a trip to White Harbour, where Ned had called a meeting of some of his most important bannermen to discuss some important news.

The lords gathered in White Harbour included Lord Wyman Manderly a shrewd operator, his old friend Willam Dustin, Lord Roose Bolton, Lord Rickard Karstark and Lord Jon Umber. These were the most important lords in the north for what Ned was about to discuss. He cleared his throat and began. “My lords, I thank you all for coming. Now you must all be wondering why I have called you here. And assure you we are not about to have another war or Mormont wedding.” There was some laughter at that before Ned resumed. “A raven has come from King’s Landing, from the King himself. It would appear he means to get more involved in Essosi affairs and has asked for out input into this situation.”

Some murmuring followed this announcement and then Lord Wyman asked. “My lord, to what purpose would we serve? The north has no fleet and has not done so since Brandon the Burner burnt it all. We do not have as rich a cliental list as some of the other places in Westeros and as such do not carry as much weight.”

There was some more murmuring at that. “Whilst it is true what you say about our sea power Wyman. You forget we played a crucial part in ending the threat from the Lorathi Dragons during the Greyjoy rebellion.” Ned says. “And as we have established some sort of contact with Lorath, Robert wishes to know what sort of things we have found out from there. And as such before I send word I would like to know as well.”

Lord Wyman looks down at his notes and says. “Well there are some glad tidings for us to report. Trade with Lorath is booming as you know my lord. They are giving us a steady stream of information as well. It would appear that Ryman Snow the commander of the Company of the Rose had engaged in some of the recent turmoil in Essos and the rest of the company wish to come back north.”

“And who would lead them back here?” Jon Umber asks. “Where do they expect to settle? On their old lands? Bah I would rather fuck a wildling than allow those vagabonds back onto my land.” There is a chorus of approval there.

“They gave up their chance for land here in the north when they aided the Blackfyres during the third Blackfyre rebellion. Is it not enough that they killed fellow northmen in that rebellion?” Lord Rickard asks. “Now they want to return back home? Bugger them I say, they are not true northmen.”

More murmurs of agreement and then Ned speaks once more. “Whilst I am inclined to agree with you my lords. You must concede that there is some validity to their desire to come home. After all they have been gone for so long that they must desire home now more so than ever, we cannot afford to antagonise them. For when winter comes they could be very useful.”

“Is that a hint that war might be coming to our shores once more my lord?” Lord Roose asks in that deceptively soft voice of his. “Does the king believe the Targaryens shall be rising to the challenge?”

Ned looks at the man and says. “You were in Tyrosh as an ambassador my lord of Bolton. What sort of atmosphere did you get from the people as well as from the king before you left?”

Bolton seemingly smiles then and says his voice still soft. “There was a lot of tension in Tyrosh my lord. They are seemingly on the verge of war, with themselves. That Lys and Myr have actually reached some sort of accord over the disputed lands that has completely cut off Tyrosh is something that did not please the Archon nor the denizens of the city. The king himself is hungering for war, that much is true. He looks east and sees only dragons.”

“Can’t say I blame him, not after what that fuckwit Rhaegar did to the Lady Lyanna.” The Greatjon says.

Ned remains silent for a moment and then says. “And there you have it my lords. That is the reason why Robert has written to us for our input. We must prepare for war, and a fleet must be made ready. Lord Wyman I task you with this duty, and it should be done discreetly per the king’s orders. No one is to know apart from those in this room.”

Mutterings of agreement and then Lord Roose asks. “And there must have been another reason for why we were called here. What was that other reason?”

Ned is silent for a moment and says. “There have been some disturbing occurrences as of late here in the north. Jorah Mormont was one such example. He fell by the wayside trying to please a woman he should never have married. That he fled his punishment is an indication of what sort of man he is, and it reflects badly not only on his house but also on the north. I need to know now if there are any other things that are going on within your domains that might cause shame to the north.”

Silence for a moment and then Lord Rickard says. “There are mutterings amongst my smallfolk of some boy, a bastard boy I believe who has been causing all sorts of trouble. Raping women and girls, and gelding boys for his pleasure. I do not know what he is called, but I have had men looking out for him for some time and we have not been able to find a thing.”

Lord Bolton speaks then and says. “I too have been hearing such reports. My own men came back with a girl who claimed to have been raped by a monster. Whether she means a human monster or an actual one I do not know. But it is clear that there is some terror roaming the countryside.”

Ned runs a hand through his hair and asks. “Will this problem require more men and attention? And how significant a threat will it be?”

Both lord Rickard and Roose look at one another and then Lord Rickard says. “Some more men would be most welcome my lord. After all most of the smallfolk cower in fear at the sign of the direwolf of Winterfell. If this rogue is truly just a pest he will come forth and end his reign of terror soon enough. If he is anything more than action will need to be taken.”

Ned nods and says. “Very well then. I shall send word to Winterfell and ask for Martyn Cassel to come to your aid with roughly around forty men. Now if you would excuse me, I need to have a private word with Lord Dustin and Lord Manderly.” The other lords get up and leave and once they are all gone, Ned turns to Lord Wyman and asks. “Did you find anything on Bolton’s ship?”

Lord Wyman shakes his head. “No my lord, it was clear as can be. Whatever things he got up to in Tyrosh and King’s Landing will likely remain a secret for some time. Though there was something else that might be of an interest.”

Ned looks at the man and asks. “And what was that?”

The lord of White Harbour pulls out a little piece of cloth with a wheel and a spear through it. “This is the sigils of the Archon of Tyrosh my lord. And whilst it might not look so askance, you will note that there is a trace of red there that should not be there. Something else happened in Tyrosh that Lord Bolton is not speaking of.”

“What could it be though?” Ned asks. “After all the man is not as ambitious as some of his forebearers and has been loyal to both me and my father. What could that little bit of red mean?”

Willam speaks then. “I have been hearing rumours from Barbrey that Roose has been spending a lot of time speaking to a man with violet eyes. Though what that could mean I know not. The Lorathi Targaryens were all killed, and I do not think Roose is stupid enough to get caught speaking to one such person.”

“You think the man hungers for the same as his forebearers did?” Ned asks dread pooling up in his stomach.

Willam nods. “I think he does. He is just more cunning and quiet about how he goes about approaching such a thing. He is a Bolton after all Ned, and they are the most untrustworthy sort of people the man’s own father Royce proved that.”

Ned nods and Lord Wyman speaks then. “Aye, what Lord Willam says is true my lord. There are things going on in the Dreadfort. Rumours are thick and fast coming from there. My sources say this terror in the Karstark lands is in fact a bastard of Bolton’s. Said to be a lot like his grandfather and more. There is a reign of terror coming from that thing.”

Ned sighs. “I cannot do much about that my lord. Unless we have proper proof of activity and betrayal, Bolton can do pretty much whatever he wants.”

“Then we must gather more information and see what we can manipulate.” Willam says.

“I will not manipulate information Willam. It is not honourable.” Ned says.

“Honour will not save you from Bolton knives Ned.” His friend replies. “If Roose Bolton wants Winterfell and the north all he need do is change sides and he is perfectly capable of doing so. He will do whatever it takes to get the north. And you must be willing to do whatever it takes to keep it. If that means planting false evidence then so be it.”

Ned is about to reply when there is a knock on the door, Lord Wyman calls for whoever it is to come in and his son and heir Ser Wylis enters looking rather worried. “Wylis whatever is the matter?” Wyman asks.

The heir to White Harbour is silent for a moment and then says. “Something is wrong with Lord Robb father. I am not sure what, but he will not stop crying and asking for his father.”

Ned feels something in his gut tighten at that and he stands up immediately. “Where is he?” he asks Wylis.

“In the gardens my lord.” The man replies and Ned is out of the room as quickly as he can walk without running.

He finds his son curled over in a ball crying loudly. “Shush Robb, it’s okay, it’s okay father’s here now. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay papa, it’s not okay. The bad man got Jon, he got Jon papa.” His son says in between sobs.

“What?” Ned asks fear increasing. “Who go Jon son?”

“The bad man with the pale eyes and the cold voice. He took Jon and said his master needed him for something.” Robb says.

Fear grips Ned then. He looks at Lord Wyman and at Willam and says. “I am going to take my son back inside. I want the whole city searched my lord. No one is to go in or out without my leave. And find me Roose Bolton.” Both men nod and leave.


	25. A Sea of Snakes

****

**Fifth Month of 291 A.C. Pentos**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

The war was over, at least in terms of the fighting in the Disputed Lands something had happened that had thrown Rogare off of wanting Lys for himself and as such Daeron had been more than happy to return home. Only for the man to change his mind and order the coup, in return for aiding Daeron in getting Aegon back. Daeron had agreed and so after much fighting and some feelings of guilt he had slain the ruling magister of Lys’s champion in single combat and watched as Rogare became Prince of Lys. They were then sent out to take Aegon back from Tyrosh only to find him riding towards them, the plan having worked perfectly, though his brother had not spoken to him from much of the journey back home, it seemed that he had learnt of their nephew’s presence. Said nephew was somewhere in the house playing with Daenerys right now, and as such Daeron was not sure what to make of him. The boy looked a lot like Eddard Stark was said to look and upon seeing him for the first time Daeron had thought he was looking at Lyanna’ Stark’s ghost. It had shocked him a lot, and the child, gods he had never been good with children, had cried and cried upon the first two weeks of being here but eventually had settled into some sort of routine he felt guilty but it needed to be done.

He had called a meeting of his advisors and asked his brother to attend as well to provide a debrief. As well as himself and Aegon, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Willam Darry and their mother were present in the room. He took a sip of wine and said. “Many things have happened since the last time we held such a meeting. Lys now is a princedom and Tyrosh continues to froth in anarchy. Soon enough Myr will revolt as well, but for the nonce that is far and between. What has been occurring here and what news from Westeros?”

His mother is the one to reply. “Here in Pentos, the magisters have begun discussing reinventing their terms and treaties, and have begun looking for creating the slavery trends once more. Our friend the cheesemonger is looking to convince them that such a thing is not in their interest. We do not need Braavos here. In Westeros, House Darry continues to work to undermine House Tully and the Usurper’s control as do the various people we have in our employ. And it would appear that something new has come to light.”

“And what is this new thing that has come to light mother?” Daeron asks. “Is it something that could completely destabilize the new regime?”

His mother smiles and nods. “It would appear the usurper’s sons are not actually his own. But rather the product of an illicit affair between his queen and some unknown man.”

Daeron looks at his mother and asks. “Where has this information come from mother? If it is the spider then I do not think that this information should be considered completely valid. I do not know what sort of things the man says are reliable.”

His mother looks at him and then says. “Bonnifer himself has said that his own women under his pay have confirmed that the man visiting the Queen’s bedrooms is not the king and have not been for some time.”

“Bonnifer? As in Hasty? The man who has been in lover with you since you were children?” Daeron asks. “Of course he would say something like that he wants you to be singing his praises his mother. He is a stormlander and his family have been nothing but loyal to the usurper.”

His mother purses her lips and says. “Bonnifer’s workers are members of the faith and others who sleep in the same chambers of the Queen. Whenever this man comes she dismisses them. And yet when the King comes to visit her she does not dismiss them. Clearly there is something wrong and treasonous going on here.”

Daeron considers this for a moment and then says. “Very well. I want word sent to our men and women in king’s landing and I want them to find complete proof before we act on that. And plans should be made to bring Princess Myrcella here to Pentos as well. Now there is something that Aegon has that he wishes to say.”

His younger brother stands up and winces as he does so. His tone is cold when he speaks. “Thank you, Your Grace. As it was I worked on the king’s orders, to find out more about the iron throne’s plots and how Tyrosh fits into it. As it turns out, they are working together to undermine us. They questioned me as to what our plans and plots were, of course I gave them nothing. But the Archon thinks I am now working for him, feeding him some information and misdirection that he will feed to Robert. And as such I know now where they plan to strike first.”

“What did they do to you Aegon?” mother asks.

Aegon stares off into the distance and Daeron questions whether what he asked of his brother was the right thing to do. Eventually he says. “Torture and other things mother. But it matters not, I managed to get what information that was needed. They are planning on siphoning off funds to different places, as a means to strangle the treasury for us, both the Rogares and the Archon. Using Petyr Baelish a man who knows the Tullys and the Starks well. And the usurper has got spies within the company that are reporting back to him about this or the other. There are those who cannot be trusted within the hierarchy of the company that must be removed.”

Daeron nods and asks. “And do you know whom these people are brother?”

Aegon nods and says. “Harry Strickland, Desmond Rivers, Tristan Mudd and Loren Hill. All men who hunger for something in Westeros. Furthermore, I have reason to believe that the confusion and chaos in Tyrosh has been made up by the Archon and the throne. They want to tempt the company to Tyrosh in order to lure us there and capture us.”

Daeron nods and says. “Thank you Aegon. That is all for now from you. Now there are more things that we need to discuss. Most importantly the issue of Jon Snow.”

His mother speaks then. “What do you mean to do with the boy Daeron? He is but a child, and knows nothing of his origin nor the cause of what brought him here. He is only a boy, and this move has endangered us and brought the wrath of the north.”

Daeron grits his teeth and says. “I disagree mother. Lord Eddard Stark does not know whom has taken the boy, nor does he have reason to suspect us. As far as he knows Bolton had something to do with it. Though Bolton knows to keep his mouth shut. Jon Snow must grow up here, I will not have him grow up anywhere else. No matter what else he is, he is my nephew and I will see him raised as such.”

His mother looks ready to argue and then sighs. “And what will you do when Robert Baratheon raises the world to fire, looking for his best friend’s bastard son? He will go crazy and war will come long before we are ready for it.”

Daeron grits his teeth and says. “He will be counselled out of it. The man might be king, but he is not idiotic enough to go to war over one bastard child. He is not Rhaegar, and besides Varys will never allow him to find out whom it was that took him. I doubt even Stark knows. Jon shall grow up here with Daenerys and he will be taught in the ways of the world. I will not have him be like his father.”

Mother seems to relent at that and then says softly. “Rhaegar was not all that bad sweetling.”

Daeron snorts and says. “He started a war to fuck a girl. He was a fool who let his cock run away with his brain. But that is neither here nor there. Jon Snow remains here and he will grow up here. Ser Gerold you shall see to his training, Ser Willam you shall teach him in the ways of the world. And in time we shall tell him who he is.”

The men in question nod and then once they are dismissed Aegon turns to him and asks. “Why did you not mention him before we left for Tyrosh brother?”

Daeron takes another sip of wine and then says. “Because it was too risky. I did not know if I had the means to make it happen and once I did, there were too many moving parts.”

“What would you have done had the plan failed and someone had talked?” Aegon asks.

Daeron considers this for a moment and then says. “Then that person would not have lived to see another sunrise. I have plans for Jon that go beyond this. He will serve as my squire when he is old enough to come into the field. And when he is perhaps I shall tell him the truth. But first I must assess his character and see whether he will stay true.”

“And if he does what then?” Aegon asks.

“I shall knight him and give him the truth he seeks. And I will make sure he is loyal to no one but me. I cannot have another stark in my hands. Not again.” Daeron responds.

With that they go their separate ways and as Daeron walks through the hall towards his room and Ashara he hears laughing, childish laughter. He stops when Dany runs into him. “Sorry Daeron,” his little sister says. “I did not see you.” She is red faced and panting.

Daeron smiles a rare smile for her and says. “That is quite alright sweeting. Who were you running from?”

His sister’s face changes then and the expression becomes one of worry. “Jon, Daeron. We were just playing a game I promise.”

Confused as to why his sister is acting so concerned. He says. “It’s okay Dany, you can play with whoever you like. Where is Jon? I would like to speak with him.”

As if on cue the boy appears looking nervous and shuffling his feet. Daeron looks at the boy and sees only Lyanna Stark in him, his gut clenches then and some old anger rises only for him to push it back down again. “How are you doing Jon? Are you enjoying your stay here?”

The boy looks nervous when he replies in a quiet voice. “Very much so my lord.  I mean, Your Grace.”

“And your lessons they are going well?” Daeron asks.

“Yes Your Grace. We learnt about Valyria today and it was very interesting.” Jon says.

“When will I get a dragon Daeron?” Dany asks.

Daeron laughs and picks his sister up and tickles her until she is giggling all the while saying. “Why sweetling you are already a dragon you don’t need some large lizard to know that. Now if you two will excuse me I must needs rest.” He puts his sister down and walks to his chambers where he finds Ashara waiting for him.

When the door is closed and she kisses him he sighs into her and when they pull away he says. “Gods I have missed you.”

She smiles at him and says. “Show me.”

And so he does, for the rest of the night he shows her how much he has missed her and she him. All the worries seem to have disappeared when he was with Ashara. If only it could always be so.


	26. Guile

**Seventh Month of 291 A.C. Pentos**

**Prince Aegon Targaryen**

Many things were changing for Aegon and his family, for one thing the boy, for that was what he was, was beginning to settle into life in Pentos. Aegon still not understand why his brother insisted on having the boy around, but if Daeron thought he could serve some purpose then who was he to question him. Other things were happening as well, the cheesemonger had managed to convince the magisters of Pentos to go against their considered policy reforms and as such relations with Braavos remained good. And then there had been the arrival of Wenda the White Fawn a lady who had been but a maiden when the Kingswood brotherhood had been causing trouble ten years ago, she was quite beautiful and Aegon had found himself charmed by her. Still there were things preventing him courting her as he would have liked. And one of them of course was his brother, his king and the one who would save them all.

Daeron and he were sat overlooking the gardens where Daenerys and the boy played, and his brother looked worn and tired. It could not be easy having the whole hope of the family on his shoulders and yet it was a burden Daeron shouldered well. He seemed to be coping far better than mother was, though mother did have to look after Viserys and Daenerys as well as the boy. Daeron sighed and Aegon turned to look at him. “I remember when we used to do such things Aegon. Playing in the gardens of the Red Keep without a care in the world. Before Rhaegar’s folly became known to us all.”

Aegon considers this and asks. “Were we always so care free though brother? I mean with father being the way he was. Some things might have been different had he never come back from Duskendale.” As much as it pained him to say such a thing, it was the truth. He had vague memories of being terrified of his father growing up.

Daeron sighs then and says. “Father was a good man before Duskendale, erratic but a good man. At least that is what mother says, though I am not sure whom she says it for. Herself or for the others. Still we are the adults here and as such there are certain things we must do. You did well in Tyrosh, and I thank you for your service. Without we would not have been able to convince the cheesemonger than going against Braavos was not in his interest.”

Aegon smiles at the compliment and says. “I only did as you asked brother. It was quite easy to play the Tyroshi when we had someone doing most of the work for me, convincing them that I was turning.”

His brother nods and then says. “Roose Bolton shall be rewarded for his work when the time comes. Though the man is no doubt slippery as an eel. He shall need to be watched when it matters. Now as to what I wish for you to do when you meet with the Archon’s man. No doubt the man will ask you about what plans I have for further action in Pentos, and whether I mean to keep hold of the Rogares in Lys. I want you to tell him that with regards to Pentos I am done here, and that I am moving away to Lorath, the usurper’s spies will think to look there as well for that is where some of our bastard kin still live.”

Aegon nods and then asks. “And what of the Rogares what do you plan to do with them?”

His brother considers this and then says. “We are working together that much is true. As to the extent of that yet, I do not know. Tell the man that you are striking a deal with Drezno for your own bid on the throne. And that you are growing disillusioned with my methods. The Archon will not doubt wish to report that or do whatever he wishes.”

Aegon nods and then asks. “And if the man asks about trading contracts? After all part of the deal for getting me out was the trading contracts.”

Daeron considers this for a long moment and Aegon waits. “Tell him the contracts are still on. They have some very good terms and conditions. It is time we became a power on the seas. When the time comes the man you are meeting with shall be our pawn and the Archon will fall.”

Aegon nods and then asks. “A red spring for Tyrosh then? And a valuable ally with us in the port city. Westeros will most definitely tremble then.”

His brother nods and says. “Indeed they shall. And if all goes according to plan the usurper’s hand will not be alive long enough to prevent the usurper from creating all kinds of unnecessary chaos for himself.”

Aegon looks at his brother then and asks. “And what sort of chaos would he create?”

Daeron is silent for a moment and then says. “Robert Baratheon hates our family with a passion brother you know this. He blames us all like an idiot for the mistakes Rhaegar made. And as such he will bring himself to ruin in his desire to see us brought low. It is in his nature and that shall be his undoing without Jon Arryn there to reign him in.”

Aegon smiles at that and says. “Then I look forward to it. For then you might claim your throne again and we can all return home.”

His brother nods and then says. “There is one more thing I which to speak with you about before you go on your way. And it centres on Jon.”

Aegon tenses and asks. “Oh and what do you wish of me regarding the boy?”

His brother takes a deep breath. “He is growing fond of Daenerys but as of now I do not have the time nor the patience to get to know him. That is to be your job, get to know the boy, know what he likes and dislikes, what his loves and fears are. And make sure that when you are finished he sees you as a friend a confidant.”

Aegon looks at his brother and then looks out to where the boy is playing and he says. “What purpose will this serve brother? The boy is just that a boy.”

His brother sighs and says. “That boy will one day be a grown man, and with him being who he is, he needs to be loyal to me and to our cause. He must needs not get any of his own aspirations beyond serving the family. And that Eddard Stark might see the boy as a son will be key to seeing us win the support of the north. See to it that you do as I have asked.”

Aegon nods and then they separate and soon enough Aegon is riding his horse to the outpost of Pentos where he is to meet the Archon’s man. Valarr Valequo was a big broad man, an aurochs really but still he was a cunning man. “You have the coin?” Aegon asked as greeting and once the man had passed over the silver coins and Aegon had pocketed them he spoke. “My brother plans to move out from Pentos for Lorath at the moon’s turn.”

The man looks interested at that and asks. “And what has caused this change of heart?”

Aegon does his best to look disgusted. “He believes the cold air will help him think more clearly. And I believe he is wanting to get further away from the chaos about to engulf Tyrosh as well as Pentos. He is turning into a coward.”

Valequo sensing the anger in Aegon’s tone asks. “There is tension building between yourself and your brother Your Grace?”

Aegon snorts then and says. “Tension is a bit of an understatement I think. The man has grown soft after winning Lys to his side, he believes in peace and negotiating. He does not think he will win his throne through force of arms. It is not befitting of a dragon.”

Aegon can tell the man is deeply fascinated by this when he says. “So our deal is still in place? The trading contracts shall go ahead?”

Aegon nods and says. “Indeed they shall.  I shall speak with Ser Willam Darry and begin the processes for an account with the bank of Pentos to be opened up. Soon enough we shall have a solid agreement and be able to exchange the goods we promised.”

Valarr smiles then and says. “So then what other news do you have to bring me Your Grace? After all there is much I have to tell you, but not all can come at once.”

Nodding he says. “Of course my lord. Well my brother also plans on keeping the Rogares in play as well. Though to what extent he does not know yet, he believes they have a key part to play in shaping the future of both continents. Personally I believe they are trying to manipulate him into creating more benefices for themselves and for their people.”

Valequo seems most fascinated by this and Aegon knows he has gotten him in hook line and sinker. “Interesting very interesting. And if the Archon was to give you the throne what would you do with the Rogares? They have always been very, very ambitious but not very clever about how they go on about it.”

A question he had not expected but one in which he spends sometime considering. “An interesting question my lord. When I take the throne, the Rogares shall be treated with the suspicion that they deserve. They are nothing but graspers and as such need to be treated like that. Anymore power will like lead to another problem that led to such troubles during the reign of the Dragonbane. And as such we have Robert Baratheon to do that for us. Now what information do you have for me?”

Valarr smiles and laughs then. “You certainly like cutting to the point Your Grace. Very well, the Archon has begun making plans for the tiger spring in Tyrosh. Soon enough his enemies and his allies alike shall be dead and he shall name himself King of Tyrosh. He plans on using the golden company to make his dream come true. And he plans on requesting Daeron for specific missions so as to remove him from the game and see to it that you are in the running as king.”

Aegon nods and says. “Continue my lord.”

Valarr continues his words filled with glee. “He is also planning on working with Baelish to further destabilize the Iron Throne. Jon Arryn is busy trying to reign in Robert’s spending and control his fury over the disappearance of his friend’s bastard. Baelish whispers about sending out expensive search parties that will beggar the realm and leave it close to broke. Meanwhile the Queen continues on her march with her lover.”

Aegon perks up at this and says. “Her lover? I had heard rumours but I had not thought them to be true.”

The man laughs then and says. “Oh tis very true. And tis very scandalous whom her lover actually is. To lay with one’s own brother and especially when one’s own brother is a noted villain. Why that is just criminal is it not? Perhaps they believe themselves to be dragons.”

“The Kingslayer?” Aegon asks dumbfounded. “She is fucking the Kingslayer. By the gods perhaps there is some truth to those rumours.”

Valequo smiles then and says. “Indeed perhaps there is Your Grace. Now I must leave for the nonce. We shall meet again in two moons turn in Tyrosh.” With that the man departs.

Aegon rides back to the manse, and when he sees his brother he sums up the meeting with just a few words. “The Archon is playing us all brother. And the Kingslayer has turned himself into more of our father than we thought.”


	27. Mother Dragon

**Ninth Month of 291 A.C. Pentos**

**Queen Dowager Rhaella Targaryen**

For eight years they had been living in exile some of those years in Braavos and some of those years in Pentos. She had been worried when they had come to Braavos as to whether or not they would all survive the strain and the tension that often comes of moving under stressful circumstances. She had been particularly worried for her eldest remaining son Daeron who at fourteen had been responsible for ensuring that they had food on the table and money in their pockets. Eight years on and she still felt nervous but she also felt a sense of pride her children were growing up stronger every day, Daeron was a true dragon stern and steadfast, Aegon was cunning and loyal, Jaehaerys well he was seventeen now and soon be of fighting with his two older brothers, Viserys and Daenerys were still young though as was Aemon. And then there was Jon, her grandson, she knew not what to make of the child and she felt sad for him, the product of Rhaegar’s greatest mistake.

As it was she was sat watching Aemon and Daenerys play with Jon whilst sitting with her eldest son drinking summer wine and thinking. “You will have to go away once more will you not? When the contract for Tyrosh comes in?”

Her son nods. “Indeed I will. The Archon might think himself clever but he is nowhere near as clever as Aegon is. He has been played for a fiddle and soon enough we shall have that city in the palm of our hands.”

Rhaella looks at her son then and asks. “And what will you do when Robert Baratheon comes calling. I remember the treaty Tyrosh and the Iron Throne signed when the tyrant fell. I was the one who signed it after all.”

Daeron runs a hand through his hair and then says. “That is when the fight shall happen. And I shall avenge Rhaegar’s death. Fool that he was, he was still my brother and I shall avenge him and Aegon and Rhaenys and Elia. Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister will die and I shall laugh when they do.”

Rhaella sighs then, the vehemence in her son’s voice was one of the things she worried about. There was no question in her mind Daeron was a great Targaryen, the coin had landed on the right side for him, but there were certain times when he seemed more like Aerys. “And what of Jaime Lannister? Will you not avenge your father’s death?” she asks softly.

Her son’s eyes narrow then and his voice is thick with anger when he says. “Jaime Lannister was the only knight with sense during Father’s reign. He tried to do something to stop you being hurt. I do not mourn father, for he was a monster and a fool. It is time someone acknowledged that.”

She sighs once more and says softly. “He was not always a monster Daeron. He used play with you when you were little before Duskendale. Before it all went wrong. And Rhaegar was not always so mad, he… he just went a stray.”

Her son snorts. “Astray? That’s what you would call running off with the daughter of a lord paramount who was betrothed to a Baratheon of all people? Rhaegar cared more for his stupid prophecy then he ever cared for a living being. He deserved to die on the Trident but his children and wife did not deserve to die the way they did. Aegon should be sat the throne now not that oaf.”

Rhaella holds her hands up placating and when they hear a shout from the garden they both look down to see Jon and Aemon play fighting. “What will you do with Jon sweetling? The boy is growing and soon enough will be old enough to serve as a squire.”

Daeron nods and says. “I know. Aegon has been tasked with getting to know him. I do not know how to get to know little children. Especially ones who keep reminding me of that girl’s dying eyes. She was dying before she ever gave birth and Rhaegar kept her in that gods damned tower. It was a sham. But no Aegon will get to know him and then he shall be my squire.”

“And why your squire and not Aegon’s, then Daeron? If it is Aegon who will be doing the work. Why not have him be the one to knight the boy?” Rhaella asks.

Her son shakes his head stubbornly and says. “No the boy must remain in my company once Aegon is done. He has a better claim than I do to the throne, but none will ever accept him on that throne. I must keep him away from those who would use him for their own ends. He might be a boy and a pain to keep around, but he is my nephew and I will see right done by him.”

He sounded so much like her grandfather then that she had to close her eyes. Eventually she asked. “What has become of Roose Bolton Daeron? Do you know?”

Her son smiled slightly at that and said. “Dead mother. It appears he was caught in the Dreadfort, our men successfully managed to convince Ned Stark that he was behind the kidnapping. That he was, was of no concern. Once Stark was convinced of it, he found Bolton, tried him and executed him all within a matter of days. His heir Domeric has come back from Barrowton and is fostering in Winterfell.”

“And do you know if Bolton talked about the full plan?” she asks slightly worried now.

Her son shakes his head and says. “No mother he did not. He does not know the full plan. As far as I can tell he only told Stark that he was doing this to get what his family had always wanted. But at least that is one more slippery snake gone from the garden. Soon we shall have Stark in our pocket.”

Rhaella does not ask she merely nods and as her son gets up and leaves she wonders if things will truly go as he plans. She used to be as optimistic when she was younger convinced her father or grandfather would allow her to wed Bonnifer, and then she saw sense when she was wed to Aerys. Aerys had not been a bad man before Duskendale but afterward gods it had been horrible. A hand on her shoulder disturbs her then and when she looks up to see Aegon looking down at her she says. “Oh Aegon, you startled me. Come sit down, sit down.” Once he has sat down she says. “It has been so long since I have seen you sweetling. What have you been doing all this time?”

Her second eldest son’s lips tighten somewhat and then he says. “I have been doing what Daeron has asked of me mother. Running the spy, and playing the Archon for false. This mission to Tyrosh will be the one where everyone stands up and finally takes notice. We cannot hide in the shadows anymore mother. We must take action and make things count.”

“And what if things do not go according to plan sweetling? What will you do then?” Rhaella asks voicing her fear to her second son for she is too worried to do so to her eldest.

Aegon smiles slightly and takes her hand. “Nothing will go wrong mother. I promise you, I have been working tirelessly since Daeron gave me this role to ensure that nothing does go wrong. Everything is being looked over and over again and again. We shall not fail. We shall do what Aegon the Dragon did with dragons.”

Rhaella nods and takes a sip of wine before turning to look at the children, playing some new game now. “And I hear Daeron has tasked you with getting to know Jon? How has that been going?”

Her son sighs at that and says. “Aye, I never thought getting to know a child could be so hard. The boy is so gods damned shy and scared all the time, getting anything from him is like extracting something from a lion’s jaws before it snaps shut and kills you. I still do not understand why Daeron thought it necessary to bring the boy here. Here he is a greater risk to us all than he would have been in Winterfell. Now Eddard Stark will undoubtedly know where he is and will try and get his friend to bring him back. War is needed in a year when Tyrosh has fallen not before and not after.”

“So trying to turn the boy has not gone well then I take it?” she asks wryly.

Her son looks at her somewhat and then says. “There has been some progress the boy does speak, and when he does speak he says a lot of interesting things about the Starks and asks a lot of questions about this, that and the other. He has not even thought to ask why he is here. He clearly suspects but he knows now. And I would prefer to keep it that way for some time. Now there is something that brought me here. Ser Willam has a claim on Darry, and being as his nephew Ser Raymun has only one son, there is something that could very well lead to Aemon getting more than we first thought for him.”

“And how is that? Are you planning on killing of one of our most loyal lords and his son to put my son in Darry?” Rhaella asks.

Her son shakes his head. “Plans are being put in place regarding the Tullys mother.  Hoster Tully might be a healthy man right now but what is to say he will always be that way. And his son is a sot, who would likely die in a brawl rather than survive for long periods of time. There might come a time where Stark’s daughter can be used to secure us the riverlands through Aemon’s marriage to her.”

Rhaella looks at her son then and asks. “And what of your marriage?”

Her son sighs then and says. “I do not know yet. I and Daeron have not discussed it yet. Though we do know where Daenerys shall be going when the time comes.”

“And where is that? And why was I not consulted on this? She is my daughter.” Rhaella says.

Aegon holds his hands up soothingly and then says. “Willas Tyrell. The queen of thorns has been in contact and she seems very willing to renew old ties. That is a good thing, for it will give us a lot of strength when the time comes to invade Westeros. And the fact that the king’s children are not his own is something more as well.”

Rhaella sighs and says. “I do suppose the match is a good one. And with war coming ever closer we do need all the men we can get. Still I must ask what of Jaehaerys? He is old enough to fight now. Will he go with you to Tyrosh to wage war and fight?”

Her son nods and says. “Yes he must have battle experience before we begin our war. For once Robert Baratheon comes calling there will be no place for green boys or people not knowing in the ways of war. The company shall not allow it, and with Daeron pretty much guaranteed as the next captain general that policy shall remain.”

“Very well then. At least it means Viserys shall be safe from the fighting for the time being. As will Jon and Aemon. But then there are the issues of other marriages as well that will need to be discussed. We cannot be too careful of the Tyrells they are an ambitious family and always have been sooner or later they might try to stab us in the back.” Rhaella says.

Aegon smiles and the smile is so reminiscent of one her uncle Daeron used to give her breath catches. “That is why we have leverage over them. And lots of it.”


	28. Astral Ascension

**11 th Month of 291 A.C. Pentos**

**Prince Aegon Targaryen**

It was nice and quiet in the house, winter was finally ending and summer was coming back to life. Aegon had always liked summer, feeling the heat had made him feel alive. Things were beginning to move onward as well, the Rogares continued to make good on their promises and the throne’s treasury was slowly running out of money to growing expenditure from the King. Aegon smiled at that thought, soon enough they would have the throne where they wanted and then they would make their move. A lot was going to happen very soon, and Aegon was determined to ensure that the family benefitted from it. Looking at the boy who was sat beside him though, he once again wondered how he was supposed to mould this child, a boy he could barely stand into something worthy of his brother.

Sighing he turned to the boy and asked. “So tell me Jon how are you enjoying Pentos?”

The boy looked at him anxiously and replied. “Very much so my prince. The people have all been very kind and caring towards me. And Princess Daenerys and Lord Aemon have been very good friends as well.”

The boy hesitated and Aegon could feel impatience growing within him, putting it down he says. “But there is something more is there not? What is on your mind Jon? You can trust me.”

The boy is silent for a moment and then says. “I do miss my home, and my family. I was wondering if I could write to them. I would not write anything bad I promise. I would only write to say I am well. I know they must be worrying.”

Aegon sighs at this and says. “I am afraid that is not possible Jon. I know that you miss your family, I can understand it. But it cannot be done. Soon you shall understand why. For now though know that you are missed but that your family know you are safe.”

The boy looked ready to argue and sure enough he did. “Why can’t I send a letter? My father would call of the search then. He would not think to challenge you if you were to merely return me to Winterfell. Why am I here anyway? It’s not like I add anything for you. I am just a bastard boy from Winterfell who no one cares about.”

Aegon feels some of the anger grow inside of him but squashes it. “Tell me something about Winterfell. About you and your family and the people there. Talking about them will ease your mind.”

The boy seems to perk up somewhat at that. “Well Winterfell was always warm. Even during the winter it was warm. Because of the hot springs under the ground. They kept the castle warm even during the coldest nights. I and Robb used to go exploring round the castle and playing with the servants’ children and other noble children. We played knights and fought and pretended to be knights from ages past. And we often used to fight with the snow making snowballs. One time Roddy, joined us and we caused a right racket round Winterfell.”

Aegon smiles at the boy and says. “Go on Jon. What more can you tell me of Winterfell?”

“Well there was maester Luwin who was always nice and kind to me, and would teach me and Robb about the history of the Seven Kingdoms. I learnt about House Targaryen during my lessons and about the famous members of the house from Maester Luwin.” The boy says.

“And who was your favourite members?” Aegon asks.                                           

The boy considers this for a moment and then says. “I always liked Aemon the Dragonknight. He was a true knight and defended his sister from the insults of others. Especially his brother the evil Aegon. He was a good man who died doing his duty to his king and to his queen.”

Aegon smiles at this and says. “A good choice lad. Aye the Dragonknight was a true dragon. I personally like Daeron the young dragon when I was your age, such boldness and cunning at such a young age. Though now I quite like Bloodraven. You know who that is?”

His nephew nods and says. “I do my prince. Bloodraven was one of the great bastards, a son of Aegon the Unworthy who served his true king loyally and served the Targaryens loyally until the end. He did all he could to keep them on the throne and keep it away from the Blackfyres.”

Aegon nods impressed and then says. “Well go on. Tell me more about Winterfell. What were your parents like?”

The boy is silent for a moment and then says. “My father is an honourable man, stern and just. He is also very kind to myself and my siblings. As for Lady Catelyn, well she is not my mother. I do not know who my mother is, but she is nice to me and kind. She never treats me badly because I am a bastard, in fact it is only Theo Greyjoy who seems to constantly go on about that.” n

Aegon is intrigued by this and asks. “Theon Greyjoy? He is your father’s ward is he not? What does he say to you Jon?”

The boy nods and then says. “He mocks me for being a bastard. He says I will never amount to anything and the moment Robb becomes Lord of Winterfell I will be banished from Winterfell because Lady Catelyn will never stand to have her husband’s bastard in her home. He always says that I am not good at anything and he says he will beat me if I complain. I do not like him. Yet for some reason others seem to like him.”

Aegon feels some anger at his nephew’s words and says. “Well Greyjoys are traditionally stupid, so you need not worry about his opinions Jon. It is only your own opinion that matters. Now what do you think?”

His nephew is silent for a moment and then says. “I don’t know. In Winterfell there were people who would always bring up the fact that I was a bastard. Yet no one here has mentioned it. It’s almost as if it makes no difference.”

Sensing his opening Aegon pounces. “That’s because it does not Jon. Many people will bring up what you are to hurt you for their own ends. That is because they do not feel comfortable in their own skin. In this world you cannot let that affect you, for if it does it will be your downfall. The only thing that you can judge yourself by is your own personal view. Your actions speak louder than your words. Do what you must to show the world you are a good person and the world shall listen and take note. Do nothing and the world will assign tags to you, till you are a hole in the ground.”

His nephew nods and then asks. “But what if I don’t know how to do that?”

Aegon smiles inside, and thinks to himself that this boy is far too easy. “Why myself and King Daeron shall be there to guide you. We would not be looking after you so if we did not think you could achieve great things. Everyone can achieve great things Jon, they need merely try to think beyond limits.” With that Aegon looks at his nephew and says. “Now I do believe you have lessons to attend Jon. If you ever need me I am here.” His nephew stands and bows before leaving.

Shortly afterward his brother and King sits in the seat where the boy had sat moments before. Daeron looks tired but happy, no doubt he has been with Ashara before coming here. “So brother of mine. How did it go with the boy?” Daeron asks.

Aegon looks at his king and says. “Well. The boy has begun to speak more of Winterfell and his family. It would seem he had a fairly happy life there, though he does not know it for his lament at not being named Stark.”

“Indeed.” His brother says. His eyes glinting with some sort of thought. “Perhaps if we were to make him a Stark that could make it even easier for us to get him to speak more about his father and whatever he knows of the man.”

Aegon looks at his brother and then says. “I doubt it would serve much purpose Your Grace. Jon Snow knows nothing about his father’s inner workings. And that he does not comes as no surprise. He is but a boy, a boy who harbours hatred against the Greyjoy boy in Winterfell and who looks upon his step mother with kind eyes.”

His brother looks at him then in some surprise. “So Stark told his wife about the boy’s parentage then. That must be the only explanation for it, otherwise no woman would rightfully accept their husband’s bastard into their homes. That Stark has managed to pull the wool over everyone else’s eyes is something of a miracle. The boy would be dead by now had Robert Baratheon learnt of it.”

Aegon nods and then asks. “What news is there brother?”

The king is silent for a moment then and then says softly. “Things are moving more quickly than anyone had thought. It would appear the Rogare bank’s coffers are swelling with money from Westeros, both laundered and from trade. Robert Baratheon is looking there for answers to questions none have the answer to. And it would also appear our friends in Volantis are gearing for war.”

Aegon nods as spymaster it was his job to know such things. “At least Maegyr has warmed up to the idea finally. He is no longer dallying about this or the other thing. It will help when Baratheon finally comes knocking. Mother had asked if we meant to take Jaehaerys with us to Tyrosh when the war finally came.”

The king looks at him then pale violet eyes looking at strong violet eyes and his voice is soft when he asks. “And what did you tell our mother?”

Aegon looks at his brother for a moment and then says. “I said we would take him and ensure he received protection but that it was necessary for him to come to prepare for the future war. He is a man grown now and it is time he acted as such.”

The king nods and says. “Good. Too long he has remained here. I fear Pentos has made him soft. Ser Gerold says he is a good swordsman the best of the three of us. We shall see if that is true. I mean to ensure that Ser Gerold comes with us. It is time my lord commander shook the cobwebs from his shoulders and fought once more.”

“And who will guard mother and the children whilst we are away fighting?” Aegon asks.

“Ser Richard shall do the job. The man drinks too much and as of late I have found his reminisces about Rhaegar too annoying to bear. Tyrosh will be a dangerous adventure and I need my men sharp and aware. Ser Gerold is all of those things even now.”  The king says.

“A smart move then Your Grace,” Aegon says and then asks. “And what will you do with the company once this war is over? Ser Myles is faltering in health. And many will look to you to lead them through the next few years.”

The king is silent for a moment and then in a soft voice says. “I shall go for the leadership. But I will not waste men on pointless missions. The disputed lands are safe for now, Lys is safe as will Tyrosh be at the end of this. Myr will be only major contention for the next few years. And when Volantis finally erupts then we shall see action again. But we must be ready for the usurper, for he is always waiting for his hammer to come to service once more.”

Aegon nods and then asks his brother. “When do we leave for Tyrosh?”

The king is curt in his reply. “Tonight.”


	29. Confused Bastard

**1 st Month of 296 A.C. The Flatlands**

**Jon Snow**

It had been five years since he had been taken from White Harbour and the north and all he had known. Five years since he had come to learn more about the exiled former royal family, the Targaryens. Sometimes he felt guilty for feeling as he did for them, they were supposed to be the enemy were they not? His lessons in Winterfell had always shown Prince Rhaegar as a mad man who had raped his aunt Lyanna, and father had never wished to speak on the Targaryens. And yet his life with them had been good. True growing up with sellswords had its fair share of turmoil and trouble but Jon was often spared the worst of it all. He had become King Daeron’s squire at the age of nine, but for a whole year before that he had spent time with the king’s sister Daenerys and brother Aemon playing and learning with them, and he viewed them as his siblings. They had accepted him as he had never truly felt accepted in Winterfell. Prince Viserys and Prince Jaehaerys to him were like older brothers full of wisdom and guidance. And Prince Aegon was someone he saw as an uncle a confidant someone whom he could share his deepest thoughts with. The king was a different matter, though he was his squire, Jon barely knew the king or what his thoughts were. It was as if King Daeron was a statue so rarely did his thoughts show on his face or in his speech. He was controlled almost god like.

That he was the king’s squire was something that caused a fair bit of jealousy amongst his fellow squires in the golden company. Ever since Ser Myles had died and King Daeron had taken command there had been so many remarks about this and the other that Jon had gotten hurt more times than he cared to remember. “Straighten your shoulders and stop grimacing, you are not going to a funeral boy.” The king said suddenly snapping Jon from his thoughts.

Jon straightened and saw the king looking at him with his hard violet eyes. “Sorry Your Grace,” Jon said, “What can I do for you my king?”

The king continues looking at him and then says. “Tell me what you have learnt from maester Crowell. He tells me that you are making fast progress, I wish to see for myself.”

Jon begins working hard and then says. “Yes Your Grace. What would you like to know more about? The art of warfare as the maester sees it or the Blackfyre rebellions?”

The king considers this for a moment and then says. “I know what the man’s views on warfare are, and I thoroughly disagree with him. It is one thing to learn theory and another to put it into practice. Were we to use his policies on warfare, the golden company would have been broken many years ago now. No tell me of the Blackfyre rebellions.”

Jon is somewhat taken aback by this, as this is the first time the king has ever formally commented on his tutoring. Trying to hide his surprise he goes on. “Well we have mainly been focusing on the third Blackfyre rebellion Your Grace. Specifically some theories on the causes.”

The king seems interested in this and says. “Go on then. Tell me what the maester has had to say of the rat, the hawk and the pig.”

Jon is silent for a moment and then says. “Though as I am sure you know there are many theories as to why the rat, the hawk and the pig did what they did at the ball to celebrate the summer solstice, but one common theory is that they were lords disenfranchised with Bloodraven and King Aerys. And as such were working as agents for Bittersteel.”  Jon looks at the king and when he nods Jon continues. “The ball’s origins are well known, Aerys ordered his hand to commence a ball to bring his lords to court so he might see whom was lacking in attendance. Lords great and small came to King’s Landing for the ball as it was the first thing the crown had thrown at its own expense since the reign of King Daeron the Good. There was much feasting and gaiety at the ball and when Princess Aelora danced with a man wearing a rat’s mask none looked askance.”

 The king looks at him for a moment before speaking. “Go on.”

Jon takes a breath and then continues. “They stopped dancing and none looked and thought that something would happen. It was only later when the king and most of the court had retired that stirrings began to happen in the Red Keep. Princess Aelora was known to take long walks on the battlements singing and reminding herself of her brother husband Prince Aelor. It was here that the three men assailed her. Raping and cajoling her into other acts before fleeing the scene, leaving Princess Aelora mad with grief and shame. She died some time later.”

The king speaks then his tone soft. “And they never found the rat, the hawk and the pig. Though three men spoke mockingly of it to Prince Maekar when they were brought before him at the conclusion of the third rebellion. Do you know who those men were?”

Jon nods. “Ser Laswell Peake, Ser Clayton Suggs and Lord Jon Staunton. All three were executed but no proof was ever found linking them to the three men. Though theories were put forward as to why they might have done as they did.”

“And what theory do you believe the most likely?” the king asks.

Jon hesitates for a moment and then says. “I believe that the rat the hawk and the pig were most definitely agents of Bittersteel and the Blackfyres. For their thugishness is overtly reminiscent of some of the things Bittersteel was said to do in King’s Landing. Though I do not believe that the main culprit who actually hurt Princess Aelora was one of Westerosi birth but rather someone from Essos. I believe it was a Blackfyre.”

The king tilts his head then and asks. “And what makes you believe that Jon?”

Jon is hesitant for a moment and then says. “The Blackfyres were desperate to get the throne. By the time of the third rebellion support might have begun to wane for their cause. That Aelora was a widow and that she was still without child was something Bittersteel would have seized on. Getting her with child and then taking her away from Westeros would have further legitimised them in the eyes of some. And that Aenys Blackfyre later came to claim the throne peacefully as well makes me suspect him.”

The king considers him for a moment, those cold eyes looking him up and down as if sizing him up and Jon has to stop himself from shuddering. The king eventually does speak his voice soft. “An interesting theory and belief Jon. One we shall never know the truth of. Those responsible never did speak of it, and those who were left alive never knew. Still a good show of your knowledge. Well done. Now then it is time we discussed this upcoming war.”

Jon straightens then and recites what he knows. “The Myrish have begun planting their own men and weaponry in the disputed lands in violation of a pact signed with Lys at the end of the last war between the two. Prince Darra Rogare has asked us to look into the matter and if needs be sack Myr.”

The king nods and then says. “And what do you believe the Myrish commanders will do when they see our banners marching towards their city?”

Jon considers this and takes into account all that he knows of the Myrish and their beliefs and then says. “They will likely raise their guard and prepare for a siege. And then they will strike out for aid from Westeros and Tyrosh.”

The king nods and says. “And what would you suggest to do when that time comes?”

Again Jon thinks for a moment and then says. “I would send word to Lys and Volantis for aid. After all the Rogares are the most powerful lords in the disputed territories and Volantis has always been a power.”

The king looks at him for a long moment before nodding and then saying. “And what if the situation arises where the battle becomes to prominent and free flowing and ravens do not become an option?”

Jon hesitates for a moment and then says. “Find their commanders and engage them in battle. For that would surely dishearten their soldiers to see their commanders slain in battle.”

The king smiles then and says. “Oh to be young again. Doing such a thing puts us at great risk and whilst it might become a necessity I would not wish to bring it down upon us unless I truly have to. Now tell me what news you have learnt from your fellow squires?”

Jon blushes somewhat at the reprimand and then thinks hard for a moment sorting through useless and useful information before eventually saying. “One of the squires I think it was Dale was saying something about the company venturing towards Qohor or some sort when this war is done. And Lewyn kept speaking about Lady Ashara as if knew who she was.”

The king is largely silent through most of this and then says. “What more have you learnt?”

Jon is silent for a moment as he thinks on what he has learnt and then says. “Harry Hill has begun speaking out on some of the training regimes being implemented in the company, and he and his cronies have asked me to present their case to them. I told them if they wished to do it, they could present it to you themselves.”

King Daeron nods and asks. “Aught else brought before you?”

Jon considers for a moment and then he says. “Nothing more was brought before me Your Grace, though I do have a question of mine own. When you land in Westeros and retake the Iron Throne, what will you do with the Starks?”

The king’s face remains impassive but something in his eyes changes and then his voice is soft when he says. “The Starks are valuable to my plans. Their support will be most necessary when it comes time to take my throne. They shall remain in their position of power and Eddard Stark will do homage to me, or his son will.”

Jon exhales then and asks his next question very carefully. “What do you mean by that Your Grace? What reason would Eddard Stark have to serve you, when he fought to remove your family from power?”

The king looks at him then and his eyes are moving with something other than their usual cold light. “Because he fought to free his sister and to avenge his brother and father. He did that when Rhaegar died on the trident and when Aerys Targaryen died. He has no quarrel with me, and besides King Robert might not last very long and then there is you. You are the key to this all Jon.”

Jon is about to ask the king how that is so when Ser Gerold Hightower enters the tent and says. “Your Grace, there has been movement to the south. It appears the Myrmen are marching out to face us now.”

The king is at once business like and god like. “Very well then it is time we were ready. Jon help me into my armour.” And so Jon pushes his questions to the back of his mind and begins aiding the king in putting on his armour and his helm and giving him his sword, the mighty Blackfyre which ways a tonne. Just as he thinks the king has forgotten their earlier conversation he says. “When this war is done, we shall discuss everything Jon. Why you were taken and what your value is in the greater war. I promise.”


	30. Ninth Wave

**Seventh Month of 296 A.C. Somewhere in the Disputed Lands**

**Ser Gerold Hightower**

He had been a knight of the Kingsguard for nearly fifty years, having joined when he was twenty, during the 250th year after Aegon’s Landing, raised to the Kingsguard after slaying the Boar of the West. Gerold Hightower had served under four Targaryen Kings each one very different to the last. King Aegon who had raised him to the white cloaks, had been a good and kind man, but with a bending will, Gerold had seen the chaos his children’s decisions had rained down on the kingdoms and some of that had affected his view of the first king. King Jaehaerys had been viewed as weak due to his health, but there was a will of iron there that his father had lacked, and Gerold had thought he would reign for a long time, but he had died after only three year on the throne. His son the second King Aerys, had been a promising king, one who was charming and drive, but one whose passions often got in the way of what he wished to do. The tension between the king and his hand was something Gerold had noticed occurring more and more frequently in the build up to Duskendale, and it was something that when it finally exploded left the Red Keep tattered and torn. Gerold deeply regretted some of what he had done under the king’s orders and some of what he had witnessed, the burning of the Starks being the main thing, sometimes he could still smell the smoke and charred meat. That fool Rhaegar had been the promise of the kingdom and ruined it all for a good romp with the Stark girl, and Gerold had been surprised and angry at the boy he had trained had turned out to be such a disappointment. He was now trying to make amends for his failures by serving King Daeron, this king was the best one he had served under, strong, determined and iron, King Daeron would see the Targaryens back to Westeros of that was sure.

The war between the company who were working for Lys and the Rogares had lasted for six months now. There had been battles a plenty, the first two had been waged in the Flatlands outside of Pentos where the Myrish armies under the command of General Saar Lohar had mustered. The first battle had seen the company break through the lines of the Myrish, and shatter them back onto the pholya plains. Gerold had been the one to slay Saar Lohar protecting his king from a death that might have been. The second battle of the flatlands had been somewhat of a bloodbath. The Myrish army reeling from the death of their general had sent out the second sons and the company of the cat to bring the company down and divide them. The company had been hard pressed on two sides before the king and his brother had formulated the plan that had divided the two sellsword companies and set them against one another. It had been a brilliant plan and seen the second sons and the company of the cat pretty much wipe one another out, and allow the company to push the Myrish army back towards the disputed lands.

The disputed lands had seen more heated fighting where Lys had finally sent more men to aid the company against the onslaught of men that had come out from Myr. Slaves and more sellsword companies than Gerold could remember hearing about. The first battle of the disputed lands had been fought in the ruins of old battle sites and camps and had also been another blood bath. Gerold could still see the carnage and hear the screams of the dying whenever he closed his eyes at night. On and on the fighting had gone, and it had seemed as if the Myrish and their allies would just not stop coming. Where they had been getting their men from Gerold knew not, all he knew was that they kept coming and he kept swinging his sword until it was stained red. Eventually no more men came to die and the battle ended but they all knew that things would not end there. the second battle of the disputed lands had been a heated one, in the site where Maelys the Monstrous had supposedly killed his cousin Daemon. Blood, gore and death that was what Gerold remembered of the second battle of the disputed lands and it haunted his dreams as well. The smell of the dying and the carnage would stay with him for a very long time. The General of the Myrish forces Loro Lohar died during this battle and the Tyroshi forces that come as reinforcements were defeated and yet Myr remained defiant and the raids into the disputed lands continued.

The king had grown frustrated with the lack of action or aid from Lys and that Tyrosh had turned against them as well grated on his king he knew. And yet Daeron Targaryen never to outwardly appear frustrated or angry, he retained a calm disposition and dealt with all news with a cool indifference he was a true king and dragon unlike his father and brother. The king’s squire seemed to have adopted his master’s attitude as well, Jon Snow, well Jon Targaryen was not a fool and knew the truth of the boy’s parentage even if it had never been told to him outright, was a quiet and solemn lad who seemed to model himself greatly on the king. Their mannerisms were the same but their effect was different. The lad was good chap and with time would be a good swordsman. Gerold did worry about how the boy would take receiving the news of his true parentage though when the king finally told him. There was some of the dragon in him and he could have quite the temper when provoked. Though whether his devotion to the king outweighed his anger was something Gerold found himself interested to see.

As it was the king had asked him to his tent to discuss some matters of import, and that the boy was here as well did not surprise him. The king seemed to like to keep Jon Snow close by as if teaching him and keeping an eye on him at all times. Gerold was seated waiting for his monarch to speak and when the man did speak his voice was soft. “Tell me Gerold, what is the feeling amongst my men in the company? Are they and content? Or do they question the judgement of remaining in this war?”

Gerold considers this for a moment and then in a measured voice says. “Some of the men question the wisdom of remaining fighting for Lys. These are men who have not seen their wars through as you and many others of the company have. They are the new recruits, who having gotten their first taste of battle now hunger for the return to the shacks and the hovels they dwelt in before. The long standing members of the company understand the need for continuing this war and as such support it.”

The king looked at him a moment, looking so much like the young boy who would often run around after his older brother Gerold’s breath caught for a moment. The expression was gone soon enough as another softly voiced question was asked. “Do you think such a divide could have consequences should it extend for a longer period?”

Gerold again considered for a long time before answering. “If not dealt with properly yes I could see things beginning to boil and heat over. But for now it is a short divide. That will soon be broken and set to course when the Myrish do eventually bend.”

The king laughs then and says. “If they ever do bend the knee. Drezno has been harping on about how the deaths of two of the Myrish commanders has hindered his plans to bring the Myrish to the table. As if we could know that. We are soldiers not politicians. It is time Rogare realised that.”

“What would you do in Rogare’s place though Your Grace?” Gerold asks. “Killing the two generals was good for the war, but for peace, the generals do seem like they are the only ones in Myr with any common sense besides the whores and the merchants.”

The king looks at him a moment and then says. “That is true. The Myrish are notoriously hot blooded. That they have a Westerosi serving as a magister is proof enough that perhaps the spider has served his purpose too well. Still this war is proving to be quite costly for us, we are not getting paid regularly and will not be so until this war is done. And our home is being damaged.”

Gerold speaks then. “War is a costly and deadly business Your Grace. One I am aware you know of. But still there is hope yet Myr is divided in on itself, we know this from Prince Aegon’s reports and as such there is time yet for us to strike and strike fast.”

The king looks at him then and asks. “What would you suggest Ser?”

Gerold considers this for a moment and then says. “We know the Myrish are towards the south of the pholya plains. The company is stationed north of the plains and the barren river. I suggest we march out towards Myr itself and scale towards the city and demand its surrender before the town is set on fire.”

He hears a shocked gasp come from the king’s squire but ignores it, his full attention is on the king before him and hearing his thoughts on the matter. “Marching towards Myr is a bold move, but one that would not be expected of us and something that could be done quickly and quietly. We would of course need to leave Harry Strickland and some men behind so that the Rogares do not get too aggravated by the whole issue. But yes I could see that working. As to the matter of the town, setting it a fire could do the trick though Myr is not known for falling to false plays.”

Gerold nods and says. “You would be a fool to think otherwise Your Grace. Though they need not think it a false play if we were to bring fire to the siege. Myr is many things, but a city of fools perchance when directly threatened I do not think so.”

The king nods and then says. “Very well then speak with Laswell Peake and have him prepare the machines and the elephants. It is time we began to seek active retribution for our losses during this war.” The king pauses as if uncertain of himself he then turns to Jon and asks the boy to leave, once the lad has gone he looks to Gerold once more and says even more softly. “Soon enough the time will come to tell him and I am not sure how to go about it.”

Gerold considers this for a long moment and then says. “Is it essential the boy learns of his parentage?” the king nods and then Gerold goes on. “Well he has served you well for many years Your Grace. I do not think you need to fear him rising in revolt against you when he learns the truth. Break it to him gently, and do not worry if he should react cold or disturbed. It is a lot to know you are a prince in disguise.”

The king nods and then says. “Aye this is true. Very true. But not a day goes by that I do not curse Rhaegar for his mistake. I do not know what he was thinking, but whatever it was, Jon does not deserve the hardships that this life has given me and my kin. He deserves the best, and a crown.”

Gerold worried about where this is going says. “But then the alliances secured would go into smoke Your Grace, it is wise to keep him close and ensure naught comes of these thoughts.”

“Of course. I was merely speaking aloud a worry. Now we must prepare for Myr. I want this war done before Westeros becomes involved.”


	31. Tired Old Man

****

**11 th Month of 296 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Lord Jon Arryn**

Gods he was tired, far too tired. He was getting on in years, Westeros was at peace and yet he knew that such a peace would not last for as long as Robert sat the throne and there were Targaryens who remained alive. Most of Jon’s efforts had been spent keeping Robert under control, plots galore had reigned during the years since the Greyjoy rebellion, and when Tyrosh had fallen Robert had been livid , even more so when Lys had become home to the Rogares once more.  It had taken all of his willpower to stop Robert naming war when Jon Snow, Ned’s bastard son had been taken. Thankfully his own family seemed to be stable, he and Lysa had reached an agreement of sorts, and their son Robert was a healthy if somewhat more academically inclined child.

Right now though this would be more pressing, a meeting of the small council and dire news as always. Strangely enough Robert had decided to attend. “What do you mean the treasury is empty? Where has all the money gone?” the king bellowed.

Petyr Baelish the master of coin remains impassive as he replies. “It has gone Your Grace. Gone on tourneys, and other lavish things that you have thought to spend it on. Monies have been borrowed from Casterly Rock and from Braavos, and yet still not enough has been done to remedy the situation.”

Robert blusters once more. “Then find somewhere else to get money. It is your job is it not Baelish?! How has this been left to happen? Who has not been paying their taxes?”

Baelish is still composed when he responds. “Well there has been some questionable things happening with Darry finances as of late. As well as in Gulltown. My men in these places have not responded with anything yet, but I have my suspicions.”

“You think they are harbouring money back for a possible Targaryen restoration?” the eunuch asks somewhat gaily.

“Aye, Darry and Gulltown were for the dragons during the rebellion it does make sense.” Renly says. “After all we know Darry has never truly been happy with bending the knee, and that he resents the many deaths that occurred during the rebellion to his family.”

“A pox on Darry, he should not have fought for dragonspawn then if he wished to keep his family.  If they are truly withholding their taxes then they shall be answerable unto death for this.” Robert roars.

Jon speaks then. “I would be careful with how you approach this matter Your Grace. Darry might be impoverished now but he has powerful allies and as such these allies might look to the dragons should you act to hastily. As for Grafton and Gulltown, that should be under control. After all we know that they are working for us are they not Lord Baelish?”

Robert snorts. “Aye, the merchants and their bloody problems. That is all they are now. Nothing else, I killed the last lord who was noble.”

Lord Baelish speaks then. “I do believe Lord Grafton has been meeting with certain members of the free cities to discuss monies and loans.”

“And what members are these?” Jon asks and then turning towards Varys he asks. “Why have we not heard of these meetings from you Lord Varys?”

The master of whispers says. “I was just about to bring them up my lord hand. As Lord Baelish says, Lord Grafton has been meeting with various officials from Braavos and Myr, mainly discussing trading privileges and other harmless things. Though there was one meeting which is quite important. Recently he met with Daario Rogare, the heir to Lys.”

At this the whole council straightens and Robert thunders. “Rogare? That whoreson? Why was he here without my leave?”

The eunuch straightens up somewhat and then says. “It would appear they were indeed negotiating some trade deals and a potential landing point for the Targaryens when Daeron Targaryen seeks to invade. Furthermore discussions were had of Grafton aid being provided in the disputed lands.”

Jon sighs internally and then says. “And is Rogare still in Gulltown?”

Varys nods. “He intends to leave in a fortnight for Lys to bring the news and potential men for his father.”

“He shall not leave, I will eat my own hand before allowing him to leave. I want him seized and dragged here. Grafton too.” Robert thunders.

Jon speaks then his voice soft. “There is some reason in bringing Grafton here in chains Your Grace. But Rogare is a foreign prince, imprisoning him would serve no good. It would only further inflame tensions between the throne and Lys. And at the moment we cannot allow that to happen.”

The king’s eyes darken there and then his voice is barely above a whisper when he says. “Such problems would not have happened if I had been allowed to call the banners and march when Ned’s boy was taken. No doubt he is with the Targaryens, and as well as the fact that the two of free cities are now allied firmly with the dragonspawn we are facing more and more threats. The time for action is now.”

“Marching now would do nothing but further antagonize an already dangerous situation Your Grace.” Jon protests. “Lys has for a long time been an ally of the throne. There are factions within the Rogare family, we can use that to our benefit.”

The king looks at him a moment and then says. “I will not use that dragon scum. And I will not have him anywhere near my family. If we are to have Lys back, we must remove the Rogares and to do that we must march to war. Only Rogare can confirm his family’s plans.”

Jon goes to speak once more when Lord Renly speaks once more. “You need not even speak to Rogare, to learn his family’s plan Your Grace. For it is writ clear as day across the fields of Essos, where men die and families are torn. Will you dither and let politics dictate what you know in your heart to be true? Myr is about to fall, and we cannot lose another ally. For when the wolf comes knocking on our door who will protect us?”

“What news is there from the disputed lands?” the king asks.

Grand Maester Pycelle speaks then. “The forces of Lys and Volantis overwhelmed the forces of Tyrosh and Myr at the battle of the Firing Field and slew yet another general in the process. The golden company has marched from the disputed lands and makes way for Myr, to bring the city to its knees.”

Jon sighs once more he knows what Robert is about to say next. “Then we must go to their aid. I will not have another of our allies in Essos be broken by that dragonspawn. It is time for us to break Daeron Targaryen and finish the job started during the rebellion.”

Lord Varys speaks. “If I may Your Grace. My sources in Essos have reported that both Qohor and Braavos are mustering men to send to Myr’s aid. Braavos has a vested interest in ensuring that Lys does not triumph in this war. Perhaps a small convoy of men might be sent off to aid them in the fighting. It would be too risky to ensure a full convoy be sent off.”

The king’s eldest brother Stannis speaks then. “There is no point in sending a small convoy of men. If you are to aid Myr Your Grace, I suggest doing it properly, so that they do not feel insulted. Men from the crownlands have been asking for a fight since the Greyjoy rebellion now is the time to ensure they get one.”

The king smiles then and roars. “Aye, now that is something I like. Send the ravens to the lords of the crownlands. It is time for us to march for war.”

Jon sighs and over the next few day’s watches with a feeling of resignation as Robert begins preparing for a war of his own making. He watches as the various lords of the crownlands and their men 20,000 of them coming into King’s Landing. He is part of the war councils and he notices how Robert insists that the Kingslayer remain behind. “I do not want that man at my back Jon.” The king says, you don’t want him near your wife either Jon thinks. And some three weeks after the initial meeting Robert and his brother Stannis disappear into the war with the royal fleet as well as the army of the crownlands.

After Robert and the royal fleet have departed, Jon finds himself in his room speaking with his wife. “It is no longer safe here for you and Robert Lysa. With Robert gone there is nothing to hold back Cersei Lannister and her wrath.”

“Why? Do you think that something bad is going to happen?” his wife asks. “Has something bad happened already Jon?”

Jon is silent for a moment and then he says. “Let us just say that there is something about to come to light, that will make the queen very uncomfortable. As it does involve her and her brother.”

“You mean the rumours are true then? The king’s children are not actually his?” Lysa asks.

Jon is surprised by his wife’s questions, what has taken him so long to figure out his wife seems to have known for a while. “How…. How do you know?” he asks.

His wife laughs somewhat and then says. “Oh Jon, I am not such a great fool as many here seem to think. I have known love and I have known lust, and looking at the Queen and her brother it was easy to see what it was.”

Jon is somewhat silent and then he says softly. “You have not told anyone have you Lysa?”

His wife shakes her head and says. “No of course not Jon. But what do you intend to do about it? After all the king and his brother are away and the Queen is in power now.”

Jon nods and says. “Aye that is true Lysa. That is why you and Robert must go to Winterfell, where you will be safe with Ned and your sister. In Winterfell they cannot touch you, not whilst Robert lives.”

His wife is silent for a moment and then asks. “What will you do? Remaining here is just as dangerous for you Jon. The queen will not allow you to make the accusations that will need to be made.”

He shakes his head then. “I must remain here and do what needs to be done. I will not allow the Queen to place her bastards in the succession. It must be secured and it must be done soon.”

“And how will you do that? Where is your proof Jon? That book you have been reading? I do not think the queen or the king will take much into that. You must have more solid evidence and unless you have it you can’t reasonably be sure that they will do anything about it.” Lysa says.

Jon sighs and says. “There is proof of sorts around the city, it is in place for when the time comes. Now will you go to Winterfell?”

His wife nods and says. “Be careful Jon.” With that the plans are made and after having written a letter for Ned stating his claims he gives the letter to Lysa and then sends her on her way with his son promising to see them very soon.

A week and a half later Jon is sat in his solar when Lord Baelish comes to see him. “My lord hand you asked to see me?”

Jon nods. “Take a seat Lord Baelish.” Once the man is seated, Jon looks at him and says. “How soon can you get the gold cloaks onto my side?”

“The gold cloaks my lord? Why ever would you need them?” the man asks.

“Because things will need to be done to ensure the king’s successor is secure when the time comes. Now how soon can you get them onside?” Jon asks.

The master of coin says. “By the end of the week if you wish.”

Jon nods. “That sounds good my lord. Now let us raise a toast.” He raises his glass and takes a swig of wine, and feels something burning in his throat. He hears Baelish laugh before the burning overwhelms him.


	32. Final War

**Third Month of 297 A.C. Outside Myr**

**Jon Snow**

The war had lasted for a year, a terrifying and sometimes worrying experience for Jon, his first taste of proper combat. Oh he had squired for the king during conflicts in the Disputed Lands, but nothing as big as this. The intrigues of Volantis he had been kept away from, and as such his first real taste of battle and war had been somewhat of a shock to the system. The songs never spoke of the blood and gore, they never spoke of the sound of the dying screaming for one last reprieve, they never spoke about a lot of things, and to Jon that was criminal. He had killed his first man during this war, and the sight of that man’s dying breath and his face as the light went from his eyes would haunt Jon for the rest of his days. His sword had been bloodied many times during this war. He only hoped that it would end soon, he was not sure how much more of this he could take.

Of course the siege of Myr had last nearly three months now. And during that time there had been mass desertion from the Myrish war camps within the city, and those who had been deserters had been thrown from the ramps of the city into their camp. A horrifying sight, especially when Jon had seen a girl no older than Arya would be now splattered on the dust, her head crushed in. his fellow squires were talking about the siege and how long they thought it would last for when Jon joined them. “It can’t be too much longer,” Harry Storm said. “Soon enough they will have to surrender otherwise King Daeron will smash their walls in.”

Roland Storm another squire took a large swig of his wine and then said. “I do not think the king would do such a thing. He is no Robert Baratheon to heedlessly destroy that which he can bring down with words and arrow.”

Harry snorted and said. “He tried words once before, and they sent the envoy back into the dust. With that girl Snow here was so fond of. Was she a whore for you Jon?”

Startled Jon looks at Harry and shakes his head. “No, she just reminded me of someone is all.”

“Oh? And who was this lucky maiden Snow?” Harry asks. “Was it someone you fucked during one of the king’s many meetings with the Lyseni or the Volateenes? You do like your warrior women don’t you Snow?”

Jon feels his fists tighten and as he grits out. “The girl looked nothing like any of those Storm. No she reminded me of my sister. She was only eight.”

Harry Storm looks at him then and asks. “This girl out there last night, she was not eight Jon. She was a full grown woman, you did not think to see her breasts to know. For you are still a virgin despite being the king’s squire. Get off your grief and celebrate. This war will end soon enough.”

“I do not know about that. Robert Baratheon is said to be sailing here with an army from Westeros. The men are tired and we shall soon be facing Braavos.” Ronald said.

Harry snorted then. “Braavos? They have no land strength. That they are not coming by sea in itself speaks of the foolishness of the Sealord. They shall be dealt with soon enough. But no Robert Baratheon makes for the more interesting spectacle. The man’s hatred of the Targaryens is legendary. And you will surely be looked upon for use Jon.”

“Me?” Jon asks confused. “What part could I possibly have in this?”

Ronald looks at him as if he has grown a second head. “You are the bastard son of the king’s greatest friend. King Daeron would be a fool not to use you in order to distract and weaken Baratheon when it comes to killing him. Something will be made of you.”

Jon sits there for a long moment and thinks and then he asks. “And what of the rest of you? Where will you all be during this battle?”

A new voice enters this conversation deep and guttural. “They shall be fighting alongside their own masters Jon. And they shall be fighting during the mid-range. This siege has been going on for far too long as it is.”

Jon turns around to see Prince Viserys standing in the flap of the tent. They all stand and then Jon asks. “Has the king sent for me?”

Prince Viserys shakes his head. “No I have come here to reminisce with some old friends. Stay a while and let us drink some more to make the tedium of this war go by quicker.”

The Prince sits and then Ronald Storm speaks. “So my prince tell me what whore did you go and visit today? And was she as good as Mysaria?”

The prince laughs and says. “Oh I was with Mysaria today. And she was just as good as I remember. Were she not a whore, I might ask my brother for permission to wed her. But alas she is a whore and I am a dragon. Still when the time comes I shall make her a lady of great renown.”

Jon speaks then. “It is not right, sleeping with a woman who is not your wife my prince. I do not mean to speak ill of the lady Mysaria but surely you must see that?”

The prince straightens then and says. “You are but a boy yet Jon, you do not know the pleasures a woman can offer. And being stuck with my brother you are like to remain that way. Besides when this war is done, you shall be a man and I shall take you to the finest brothel in Myr and make a man of you.”

Jon sputters then and Harry speaks then. “What do you make of this news that Robert Baratheon is coming here with an army my prince??”

The prince stiffens then and says. “It is good that the usurper has come to die. Daeron shall kill him and then Rhaegar and his children shall be avenged. Then we can begin to plan the invasion of Westeros.”

The tent flap opens and the king stands there with Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Jon Connington at his side. “Jon,” the king says looking at him. “Come with me.” Jon stands nods to his friends and the prince and follows the king back to the command tent. Once they are seated, the king looks at him with those pale violet eyes and asks. “So Jon, what did your fellow squires have to say? Harry and Ronald are Stormlanders whose opinions I am deeply interested in.”

Jon is silent for a moment before he says. “Harry believes you will batter down the walls of Myr and show them what it means to challenge a Targaryen, whilst Ronald believes you will be more concerned with ensuring they are starved out.”

“And what course do you believe I will take Jon?” the king asks.

Jon is silent and then he says. “You will starve Myr out to prevent any more men and children dying.”

The king nods and there is a strange expression on his face when he speaks. “You would make a fine commander and a king Jon. A deep understanding of the needs of war that my brothers seemingly lack. Alas, there is more things to be discussed. I am sure you know that Robert Baratheon has gotten off of his arse and is now soon to be here for battle.”

“What do you intend to do about him Your Grace? If you do not mind me asking.” Jon asks.

The king looks at him a moment and then says very softly. “I will kill him. The man remains a threat to my family so long as he lives. His children are no threats, but once Robert is dead the seven kingdoms will fracture. I will kill him, but to bring him close enough to kill I will need aid. And this is where you come in.”

“Me?” Jon asks confused once more. “What part could I have in all of this?”

The king looks at him then something akin to sorrow present on his face. “You are the key to how I shall remove Robert Baratheon from this world. You are someone who will startle and shock him and because you are related to his beloved Lyanna you shall say something that will stun him.”

Jon looks at the king and then asks. “What?”

The king gives a sly smile and says. “A rose without thorns is still a rose, but it is a winter rose that one needs fear the most.”

Jon feels confused at this and says. “I do not understand how will this disarm Robert Baratheon Your Grace?”

The king looks at him then and says. “It is something your aunt said often enough to the man and at the tower of joy. Baratheon if he still loves Lyanna as much as some say he does, will recognise this and be rendered speechless.”

“I…. I do not understand though.” Jon says.

The king looks at him then and says softly. “It is the song my brother sang at Harrenhal. The song that started all of this.”

This revelation still leaves Jon in a state of shock for the rest of the week as the siege drags on and when the crowned stag of House Baratheon finally comes into sight, Jon is dressed in full armour, with a Targaryen emblem on his breastplate. The words reverberate around his head and as the battle begins and his sword is bathed in red once more, the continue to fill his every movement and decision, filling him with a sort of dread that he last felt when he was a boy being taken from White Harbour.

The battle rages on, Jon swings and hacks, and swings and hacks, not wearing a helmet per the king’s instructions is somewhat unnerving especially when a sword comes close to taking his nose off more than once. Still more and more men fall to his blade and he feels as though he is floating on air. A sense of time moving slowly engulfs him and he goes on, swinging and hacking. More and more it goes, swinging and hacking, swinging and hacking. Ducking and dodging, the sword is covered in blood and his mind is reeling and still he pushes on swinging and hacking.

On and on it goes, swinging and slashing, doing his bit to fight and keep alive, remaining close somewhat to the king, the king who is fighting like he is possessed swinging his sword and killing men at will. Gods Jon is glad he is not fighting the king, but rather for him. And then a roar is heard and a stag comes into view, Jon pushes his horse forward as instructed, and when he hears a voice roar. “By the gods its Ned’s boy.” He knows that this is the king. Swallowing somewhat he rides over close to where the thinks the king can see him and he says. “A rose without thorns is still a rose and dangerous. But it is the winter rose one must fear the most Robert Baratheon.”

The stag looks stunned then and Jon could’ve sworn he heard the man mutter his aunt’s name, but then the Kingsguard of the usurper and the Kingsguard of his king are fighting and Jon gets shunted to the side. He is battered and bruised and somewhat terrified as the throng of bodies continues to grow and his own sword is lost in the chaos of the fighting. The battle rages on Jon takes a fair few blows himself, on and on, his head is spinning there is a darkness surrounding him and there is worry pooling his stomach. And then he hears a roar and then a mighty fall and time stops, as he sees his king stand over the body of Robert Baratheon sword raised.


	33. Invictus

**4 th Month of 297 A.C. Myr.**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

The war was done, Myr had fallen and as such Daeron had taken it as a base with which to stage his operations and plans. The magisters of Myr hung from ropes on the city walls, their bodies oozing blood, and the coffers of the city had been looted and some of the funds added to the Golden Company’s treasury. Lys and Volantis had taken the spoils that they had wanted and moved on, but now Daeron was left with the question of what to do with the place. He was officially in charge of Myr, perhaps when the time came he could annex it to the throne and install one of his brothers as the Prince of Myr. That would sit well with someone such as Viserys or Jaehaerys who were more Essosi than Westerosi. For now, his mother, Daenerys, Aemon, Ashara and Ser Willam had come to Myr from Pentos bringing with them an army signed for by the cheesemonger, Braavos had retreated into the shadows once more. And now Daeron had the issue of his nephew to deal with.

The boy seemed nervous as he sat down in front of Daeron. Ser Gerold and Ser Richard Lonmouth stood guard behind Daeron, but they would remain silent as always. Taking a sip of water, Daeron spoke. “I am sure you are wondering why I have asked you here Jon. Since the war ended and Robert Baratheon’s blood stained Blackfyre, I have done a lot of thinking. And as we will soon be heading towards Westeros, I have thought that now is the time to begin speaking of things that we would speak of.”

Jon seemed very confused by this and it showed in his voice. “I do not understand Your Grace. What do you mean there are things we need to discuss now before Westeros comes into view?”

Daeron takes another sip of water and says. “You played a very key role in the death of Robert Baratheon. For that I thank you, without your part in the mummer’s play we could not have brought that oaf down. It is for that I will see you knighted before we depart for Westeros, and I shall give you a choice of name to take. When we are done here you shall understand why I give you this option.”

The boy blushes somewhat and says. “I only did as you told me to do Your Grace. I do not deserve a knighthood for that. If anyone deserves a knighthood it is Prince Viserys for slaying two of the usurper’s Kingsguard and capturing Ser Barristan.”

Daeron waves a hand dismissively. “Viserys shall get his reward when it comes. The boy has gotten enough reward as it is. Too much more and his ego is like to be bigger than his brain. No, now we must discuss something I said we would speak of when this war was done.”

He hears Jon’s deep inhale of breath and the question. “You know who my mother was? How do you know Your Grace? You, yourself have told me that you spent the whole war either in Dorne or with your father and later your siblings on Dragonstone. How could you know whom Eddard Stark sired me on?”

Daeron takes another sip of water and then says. “Whilst it is true that I spent most of the war in Dorne or away from the main body of the fighting. I did know your mother before the war began for I had interacted with her several times during the tourney of Harrenhal and I myself saw your father speaking with her and he even danced with on one occasion.”

His nephew’s eyes contort then and he asks. “Is it the Lady Ashara? Did my father sleep with her? Is that why you never leave the two of us in the room together, so that you will not allow your mistress to see her son?”

Daeron laughs somewhat at that. “You believe Eddard Stark and Ashara slept together at Harrenhal? Oh dear gods boy no. Eddard Stark is many things but his honour always held him to a strict code, he will not allow anything to break that. What happened to Ashara is another story and one that you will never know. No Ashara Dayne is not your mother. But someone else is.”

His nephew looks at him then confused. “My father only danced with three women at Harrenhal, his mother, Lady Ashara and Lady Catelyn. And if I were Lady Catelyn’s son then she would have called me as such and my name would not be snow. I do not understand. What are you suggesting your grace. Do you know who my father slept with or not?”

Daeron sighs then and asks his nephew. “Do you know who your aunt Lyanna danced with at Harrenhal?”

His nephew looks confused. “What does my aunt have to do with this?”

“Just answer the question Jon. Do you know whom your aunt danced with?” Daeron says firmly.

His nephew sighs and says. “She danced with Robert Baratheon, Uncle Brandon, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Richard and Prince Rhaegar.”

Daeron takes another sip of water then and says. “And there you have your answer. Your mother danced with your father that night and the fate of a realm was determined during that dance.”

“What?!” the boy exclaims. “My father did not dance with my aunt. No offence Your Grace but I am not the product of incest. My father and aunt had more honour than that.”

Daeron chuckles somewhat and the boy’s eyes narrow. “Your uncle is not the man you think he is Jon. And besides your father was listed in the names of people that your aunt danced with.”

It takes a moment for what he has said to sink into his nephew’s mind and when comprehension dawns the denial comes loudly. “NO! You lie, Eddard Stark is my father. He said as much whenever I asked him. My father did not lie! I am not the son of a woman who was raped and a mad man.”

Daeron sighs and says. “Think about it Jon, do you truly think your father, the honourable Eddard Stark would so dishonour is marriage vows and his wife, and sire a bastard during the war. When he did not sleep with Ashara during a point in his life when most young men would?”

“My father is not like most men. And besides you, yourself have often said that men make mistakes during the heat of battle.” Jon says.

“And has your father returned with more bastards since the rebellion? Or was it just the one child he returned home with, that his wife curiously accepted without complaint.” The king says.

Jon stutters out a response. “I… she…. She…

“She accepted you into her home because your father told her the truth of your parentage. That you were the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. And that by the laws of gods and men, you were a threat to Robert Baratheon. A greater threat than either me or my siblings. By the fact that you were born legitimate. Your parents wed before a heart tree and later a Septon.” Daeron says.

“You lie!” his nephew roars angrily. “I….. I…. do not know what game you are playing, but Eddard Stark is my father. And besides even if Rhaegar and Lyanna were married what makes you so sure that I am their child?”

“Ser Richard speak now.” Daeron says.

The knight steps forward and says slowly and concisely. “What his grace says is true Jon. You are indeed, the son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna. I was there when you were born and the blue rose you always keep with you was something I left with you before I departed for the Stormlands.”

“Why? Where is the proof of what you say Your Grace beyond your own words?” Jon asks, his voice barely hiding back his rage.

Daeron produces a piece of paper that is faded and worn with time, and gives it to his nephew. “This piece of paper you hold in your hand is the official marriage between your parents performed by Septon Meribald. Their signatures are there and you have seen letters writ by my brother to know his hand well enough. This is the proof, anything more and you are surely delusional. Your Grace.”

His nephew is silent for a long moment though Daeron can hear his angry breaths. Eventually he speaks. “If what you say is true, then I am the king and you are nothing but an usurper. Why would you tell me this now?”

“Because you deserve the truth, and because there are those who would seek to use you to harm this family and that is something I cannot allow.” Daeron says his voice soft and hard.

“So I am but a pawn for you? Is that all I ever was to you, Uncle?” with that Jon stands up and storms out of the room. When Richard goes to go after him Daeron holds up a hand.

“Let him go in peace, Dany will find him when the time comes.” He says.

“Are you sure that is wise?” Ser Gerold asks.

“I will not have him disturbed at this moment. When he is ready, he will come and talk. Now send for Aegon there are important matters that need to be discussed.” Daeron responds.

A little while Aegon is sat in the room and says. “I saw Jon walking by a little while ago, he looked rather angry. What happened brother? Did you deny him the chance to court Dany?”

Daeron shakes his head and says. “No, I told him the truth about his mother and father were.”

His brother looks at him for a moment and then asks. “Was that wise brother?”

“It is not a question of wise, but a question of necessity. When we return to Westeros Jon will be key to the north. I will not have him swayed by old loyalties. Now will be the true test of where his loyalties lie, with the man who lied to him or the man who told him the truth. Now enough of this. What is the status of our army?” Daeron asks.

His brother is silent for a moment and then says. “Well, the company needs to be restored to its full might before it can be of complete use. The elephants need to be rebought and fed as well. And we need more ships. All of this we can get from Myr and from Volantis. The Stepstones are rife with piracy though, and it is like that the Baratheons will send Stannis off to solve that problem before they turn their eyes east.”

“Or we could very well use these pirates to our advantage, and gain the Stepstones. The Stepstones have always been a good point of invasion for Westeros. Take the stones and we hold the key to the south.” Daeron says.

His brother looks at him then and asks. “What do you have planned brother?”

Daeron thinks for a moment and then points at the Iron Islands. “We know for a fact that Maron Greyjoy has been looking for a chance to get back at the iron throne since the end of his father’s failed rebellion. Giving him a chance to take the Stepstones is something that could do that. Alternatively if Greyjoy does not comply with this, then we can always ask Lys and Tyrosh to work together for once to get the Stepstones.”

“And then once the Stepstones have fallen what then?” Aegon asks.

“Dorne is still on our side with my betrothal to Arianne Martell, but they will undoubtedly want more marriages now that Jon knows of his heritage perhaps it is time for us to consider arranging one for him.” Daeron says.

“A match with the Tolands perhaps?” Aegon asks.

Daeron nods and then says. “Once we have the Stepstones we set course for Dorne. And then we march for King’s Landing.”


	34. Pretty Done

**Fourth Month of 297 A.C. Myr**

**Jon Snow**

The confusion in his mind was rife, he knew not what to think, who to believe and who to trust. His world had been turned upside down, revelations had shattered through all that he had thought to be true. Lies and games were being played with his life, gods he knew not who he was. Was he a bastard or a king? If he was a king why did his uncle lie to him and not tell him the truth, why did King Daeron tell it to him? Why would the king lie though, what would he have to gain? Gods he was so confused and lost, he did not know what was what anymore. He needed a way to relieve the pain he felt, the anger and the tension. He spent time in the sparring yard and beat his fellow squires bloody and then to make up to them he drank with them. He drank and drank, even when they left, he continued drinking and he drank and drank.

Next thing he knows he is the arms of some whore, a woman with such pale hair she could only be Mysaria, for a moment he worries about what Viserys will think, and then he dismisses the thought if what Daeron says is true he could have any woman he wanted and no one could say thing. The thought makes him high on lust and he begins pounding away on her, drinking in her beauty, and the feeling of her on him, of him in her. Gods he loves it when she groans his name and when he cums, by the gods it is a good feeling. A wineskin is never far from the bed and he downs half of it in one gulp and then he is back into fucking the whore.

And into the darkness he descends, it feels so good to be bad, for once, no restraints no one saying anything to him. It seems his master has lost his balls and is not going to discipline him, very well, Jon decides he will take full advantage of that. He drinks and fucks and spars in the yard, and he beats all those who come before him bloody. He nearly takes Viserys eye out once and he merely smirks at the prince when he glowers at him. Harry and Ronald comment on his new found freedom and they go drinking and whoring, and more than once Jon wakes up to find himself somewhere in Myr not knowing where exactly but always able to make his way back.

He gets into a fair few fights and scrapes during his nights in the taverns, men looking at him the wrong way, or trying to steal his woman away from him end up either beating him up badly or being beaten badly. His face is a wreck of scars and bruises, and his hands are swollen and bloodied. But gods this freedom feels good, and the anger continues to boil. He drinks more and more as the days turn into weeks, and his master does nothing to reign him in. in fact he does not even see another Targaryen for weeks. It feels so good to be free, finally free no inhibitions. Not having to live up to anyone’s standards especially Eddard Stark’s the liar and the bastard that he is.

One day, he knows not when he finds himself being prodded awake, his face is damp though he does not remember pouring water on himself, or of anyone doing something similar. He groans. “What…..?”

“Get up you little shit.” A familiar voice says.

Jon’s eyes shoot open, and he tilts his head slightly wincing at the pain that crosses through his head to see violet eyes glaring down at him. “Whadda ya want?” he groans.

He is pulled up and groans some more and feels vomit on his face. “You look a state. Go and get cleaned and then we shall discuss what you have done.”

Jon blinks slightly and then staggers towards the bathroom, where looking into a mirror he sees his face. It looks a wreck, cuts and bruises cover it, his shirt is missing and there are many scars covering it. He does not know where they have come from, his hands are covered in sick and blood. By the gods his head hurts. He washes himself with some of the water already there and is shocked when it turns black instead of red. Once that is done he staggers out of the room and his head pounding he sees Prince Aegon standing there glaring at him. His chest tightens. “I do not wish to speak with you.” He says.

The prince’s eyes harden, and he all but growls. “I do not give a fuck about what you want. We shall speak and we shall speak now.” He throws a shirt that hits Jon in the face. “Now put this shirt on and we shall move to a more private setting.”

Jon puts the shirt on wincing as he does so, the pain in his head is getting worse, not better. Once that is done he follows his uncle- he supposes the man is his uncle now- and when they leave the main room and enter a side room the prince grabs Jon and throws him against a wall and presses his arm into his neck. “What are you doing?” Jon gasps.

The prince stares at him and Jon winces at the anger he sees there. “I should gut you like a pig for what you have done boy. But because you are kin I will not do so. And because it would make the king sad.”

“I…. I am the king.” He gasps. “Daeron told me.”

He feels a punch to his gut. “You are nothing but a stupid little shit of a boy trying to be a man. You are not a king.” The prince growls.

“I am what you have made me, my prince. Or should that be uncle.” Jon growls. “Was I ever more than just a pawn for you uncle? I told you all of my secrets and you listened and gave advice, but were you only using it to feed Daeron things with which he could use against me?”

“Do not try and spin this round boy! Whatever was done was done to further the cause of this family which you are a part of whether you like it or not.” The prince says.

“And what of the lies and the manipulation? You used my information to bring down the man who was my father’s best friend. You are all liars, every single one of you. You take promises from us normal people and use them for your own advantage!” he yells. “I do not know whom to trust anymore nor do I wish to believe you lot anymore.”

The prince punches him once more and then growls. “Was that reason enough to attack my sister then you bastard? You do not trust me fine, you do not trust Daeron fine. But to attack my sister, who has always been kind and caring towards you? No I will not have that.” Another punch hits him in the stomach.

The prince’s arm has long since moved from his neck and is now holding his shoulders in place. “What?” Jon stutters. “What do you mean? I would never hurt Dany. I….”

“Do not say you love her boy.” The prince growls. “The beating you gave her was not the sign of a man who loves her. Was it the alcohol that made you act like an idiot, or the fact that my brother continued a lie that your own uncle told to make sure you would not do something stupid?”

Jon looks at his uncle aghast then and says. “I…. I….I… do not… I do not remember.” A pain is entering his gut, could he really have hurt Dany? He has loved her since he was a little boy, no it could be possible. “Unless you lie?”

Another punch this time to his face, and Aegon growls. “Do not accuse me of lying about this bastard. My sister is in her room with scars and bruises. That she survived your cruelty is because Viserys pried you off of her, that is why you are so beaten up boy.” Another punch greets him then and his nose begins bleeding.

Aegon then moves off of him and he falls to the floor, his nose bleeding his head hurting his chest hurting, he looks at his uncle standing there and says. “I am sorry for what was done to Dany, whatever it was that I did if you are not making it up. But I am not going to easily forgive or forget what has been done to me.”

The prince snorts and says. “And what has been done to you that would warrant such a thing? You have shamed not only yourself, but the king and your own grandmother with this display recently. Drinking and whoring and brawling. You were raised better than that Jon.”

“You cannot, say that to me dragonspawn! You did not raise me, Eddard Stark raised me! Not you, and not the man who claims my own crown!” Jon yells back.

The prince looks at him with disdain. “Then I would go and sort yourself out boy, before my brother decides to change his mind about you.”

As the prince leaves Jon roars. “He cannot decide my fate for me! I am not his son!” the door slams shut and Jon is left to piece together his memories, they are blurry and fragmented but he does remember a conversation with a woman with pale hair and eyes as violet as Dany’s but he thinks that that was Mysaria, but then some gut wrenching feeling enters his being and he worries at what this could mean, was Dany there? He looks at the state of himself once more and groans. He opens the door and walks out of the brothel, for what other place could it be?

He limps back to the main house of the magisters where the King- gods this is so confusing- and when he enters the house, he sees people averting their eyes from him and his anger begins to grow anew, what has he done that is so bloody shameful? His gods’ damned uncle, and the king- that seems so wrong, and yet confusingly Jon cannot stop thinking of the man as such- had lied to him and used him for their own purposes. He finds himself at Dany’s door guarded by Ser Tristan Rivers. “I wish to speak to Princess Daenerys.” He says.

“I am sorry Jon but you cannot enter. By orders his grace King Daeron.” Ser Tristan says.

Jon is tempted to roar that he is the king but instead he says. “Please Ser Tristan, I wish to speak with the princess and it is most urgent.”

“I am sorry, Jon, but I cannot allow you in. the king has expressly ordered me to….” The man says, before the door opens and the king walks out.

“Let him in Tristan.” The king says, merely looking at him once before walking past.

Jon glares at the king and then walks past as he walks in his heart catches in his breath as he sees Dany sitting there on the bed her hands in her lap her eyes on him. “Dany?” he asks tentatively.

She looks at him and he nearly gasps at the bruise above her eye and on her cheeks and she says softly. “Oh Jon, I am so glad you are not harmed. I was so worried.”

Jon looks at her then in wonder and asks. “Did I…. Did I?”

His aunt- he supposes that is what she is- touches her cheek and says. “What? This? Oh no it was something else. I fell. But are you alright?”

The question startles him and the anger he is feeling bursts forth. “Alright? I have just been told that I am not who I thought I was and you ask if I am alright? By the gods Dany how fucking naïve can you be? I am not alright, I want to scream, I want to yell and I do not know if I want a crown or not.”

“But Jon, you, you are safe here.” Dany says.

“Safe? I am surrounded by liars and manipulators. I am not safe here I have never been safe here. I will leave and never return.” He roars.

“But, what about me? I love you Jon.” Dany says.

“Well I don’t love you, and I never have nor will I ever.” He shouts back before shoving the door open and storming out.


	35. The One That Kills The Least

**5 th Month of 297 A.C. Myr**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

The past month had been one of great turmoil, since the fall of Myr and his occupation of the place, many things had come to pass. Jon had found out the truth of his parentage and things had been rough for a time or two that the boy had come to him beforehand had lessened the true telling of it all and he had played his part well. Yet the things he had done in the streets of Myr were somewhat unnerving and not acceptable especially what had been done to Daenerys and yet the boy had sobered and calmed down. His brother Aegon continued whispering in his ear about removing the boy and culling the threat he posed and yet Aegon was the bigger threat, so many issues needed to be discussed during this meeting that he was not sure they would have time to cover it all.

His advisors were all in attendance and Daeron took a sip of water before he spoke. “I thank you all for your patience. It has been two months since the war ended. And since then we have been rebuilding the army and the fleet preparing for Westeros. Certain things have occurred in that time that have made it even more prudent that we are united in our quest for the throne. Now I would hear what has occurred since last we met.”

His mother speaks then and says. “Lys and Tyrosh have so far kept to the peace treaty that they signed under our presence Your Grace. Volantis is facing its own problems at present. And Braavos is dealing with an election of the sealords, whilst Qohor and Norvos are filling up with debt and mounting peasant agony.”

Daeron nods and says. “Let them burn, they have nothing left to offer us. We have our eyes firmly set on Westeros now. Tell us mother what news is there of the goings on of Westeros? Have the Westerosi began ripping one another apart?”

His mother looks at the notes before her and says. “According to Lucerys Velaryon it would seem that since Robert Baratheon’s death the Lannisters have very quickly been gaining more and more power at court.  The boy king’s mother has named her father hand, and has begun removing the old small council members from power apart from Varys and Lord Petyr Baelish. The Vale is in chaos following Jon Arryn’s sudden death, some whisper he was poisoned others wonder why and how he died. Renly Baratheon has called his banners and has joined with the Tyrells. Stannis Baratheon has called his own banners.”

“And what of the north and the riverlands what do they do during this course of action?” Daeron asks looking at his nephew.

“Eddard Stark had called his banners last report had heard. Tywin Lannister had called his own banners and as such had marched into the riverlands raiding and pillaging as he pleased. Whether or not Stark and Lannister have met in battle I do not know. It does seem as though the Baratheon brothers are planning to clash against one another.” His mother replies.

Daeron nods and then says. “The Baratheons always were fools. It seems cousin Steffon was the only smart one there. A shame then that he died when he did. Let them burn against one another when the time comes we shall take the pickings from the wreckage and rebuild the home we know it to be. And what of Dorne mother?”

“Prince Doran has written that he has prepared men at the Boneway and in the Prince’s Pass to serve as a warning to both the Reach and the Stormlands. He also writes of an offer that has come from King’s Landing, of betrothing his son Trystane to Myrcella Waters.” His mother responds.

“And how has Prince Doran responded to this?” Daeron asks intrigued.

“He has decided to accept the betrothal. Myrcella will go to Dorne and serve as his wife’s cupbearer for the time being. They are to be wed when Myrcella is sixteen.” His mother responds.

“What is this treachery?” Jon Connington says. “Doran has gone too far with this, allying with the snakes who killed his sister and his niece and nephew. Has he no honour, what does Prince Oberyn have to say on this?”

“It is the prudent course.” Daeron says. “It keeps a Lannister hostage in Dorne and it also means that suspicion is alleviated away from an potential enemy from the Lannisters. The man has played a very clever game. Now it is time we begin to make work on that. Tell me who our other allies are in Westeros?”

Jon Connington speaks then. “Houses Darry. Grafton, Goodbrook, Smallwood, Mooton, Rowan and Osgrey all are readying for your return Your Grace. Grafton is making plans for the fleet to sail round to assail the Stepstones. And Maron Greyjoy has begun his raids.”

Daeron nods. “Good let it be known that should Maron Greyjoy succeed where his ancestor Dagon failed, he can keep the Westerlands and whatever parts of the Reach he should capture. Now what of the Stepstones have they been taken as of yet?”

“They have indeed been taken Your Grace. Jacaerys Velaryon wrote from Bloodstone to speak of his occupation of Daemon Targaryen’s old keep. The place is now ready for the armies to land and be of use.” Ser Richard Lonmouth, says acting as Aegon’s voice in the council.

“Very well,” Daeron says. “Lord Connington tell me, how do the company fare? Will we be up and ready to sail by the end of the moon?”

“They are near enough done Your Grace. The two months rest since the end of the war has done us a world of good. Soon enough the elephants and the ships will be ready to go and they shall be good enough to set sail before the moon turns. Where do you wish to land?” Connington says.

Daeron thinks for a moment and then says. “We shall set sail for Plankytown, it is time for us to begin the alliance with Dorne once more. I shall wed Arianne Martell in Sunspear and then we shall march for the Stormlands or the Reach whichever region is more vulnerable.”

His mother speaks then. “A wise move Your Grace, bringing Dorne straight into the war and ensuring that Doran cannot play softball with anything anymore. Once Dorne is behind you, others will flock to your banner, and sooner or later the pretenders will quake with fear.”

Daeron nods and then turns to Ser Richard and asks. “Has there been any word from our brother Aegon Ser?”

The man clearly looking for some excuse stutters for a moment and then says. “No Your Grace. Last I had heard, the prince had been delayed in Pholya on his way to Lys. Sooner or later though he should make it over towards the plans and on towards Lys. After all he has the plans for the invasion locked away somewhere safe.”

Daeron nods and says. “Very well this meeting is at an end. You may all leave our presence, apart from Ser Gerold and Ser Jon here.” Once the advisors are gone, Daeron looks at the lord commander of the Kingsguard and asks. “Have you found aught else on Ser Richard that could make his complicity in this crime anymore grave?”

The man looks at him for a moment and then says in that deep voice of his. “Notes and letters corresponding with Prince Aegon about the month in which Ser Jon was lost to the world of sense. A chance to frame the Ser and make it look like he should be held responsible for his actions.”

Daeron looks at Jon and says. “You were played for a fool once more Jon. I told you to keep your temper in check. Your actions belied the true intentions of this plot. Then again I suppose without your foolishness we would never have gotten Aegon’s confession as it were. Still a lot of work needs to be done.”

His nephew bows his head somewhat and asks. “But why would Prince Aegon do this? He has been nothing but loyal and a good servant.”

Daeron holds the crown in his hands, and says. “He wants this. Something inside him broke when he was captured in Tyrosh. I had thought that perhaps we had avoided that but clearly not. He learnt how to play the game with me and he excelled past anything I had ever thought possible. The deal he struck with the Archon was real, in his mind. And he lost it when you came to live with us. That was why he never became your friend Jon, he never wanted to be your friend, and he wanted you dead.”

His nephew looks somewhat stunned. “And you Your Grace?”

“I was curious about you. You were my brother’s greatest folly and his greatest achievement at once. I wanted to see what you were and whether you were fire or an idiot. It seems you were smarter than your father was, and your mother. And as such I came to see a potential for you. But of course you have made it quite clear you want not the crown, but Aegon does not know that.” He responds.

“Then would it not make more sense to tell him and have done with it?” Jon asks.

Daeron looks at his nephew and says. “Because Aegon is paranoid. He will suspect there are other things going, and then he will try and counteract those things that he thinks are happening. And all the plans that have been made with this assumption will go and disappear. Aegon must needs believe you are still a threat before he is removed.”

His nephew looks somewhat confused. “You would use me as a pawn once more to get your brother to act against you and then remove him? I do not understand you Your Grace.”

Daeron looks at his nephew his eyes hard. “I do not need you to understand me Jon. I need to know if you will continue to work for me and with me. Aegon is a threat that needs to be removed at any cost. And that time will come and you shall be the key piece to that. Are you willing to show yourself a true dragon?”

His nephew looks at him for a long time, and Daeron could swear he sees bits of Rhaegar, and Lyanna in the expression old ghosts come to haunt him, when his nephew finally says. “Yes Your Grace I am ready to do what it takes to see us back where we belong. What would you have of me?”

Daeron looks at his nephew then and says. “We must needs tie ourselves closer to Dorne. You shall wed Allyria Dayne when the time comes and in return Starfall shall give us the men we need to break into the western reach.”

His nephew tenses then and asks. “When shall this marriage occur Your Grace?”

Daeron looks at his nephew then and says. “Before we march for the Reach. The same time as my own wedding.”

His nephew looks grim and merely nods and then asks. “And what of Daenerys what shall happen to her?”

Daeron looks at his nephew then and says softly. “She shall wed someone of whom I have not decided yet, perhaps Willas Tyrell or perhaps your own cousin Robb. When the time comes it shall be as is.”

The meeting ends and Daeron dismisses his nephew and Ser Gerold and sits alone in his solar, drinking water and thinking. Brewing over the past, the present and the future. It pains him to think that he might have to kill his little brother, his strong right hand who has been led astray. He should have seen it coming that he did not only makes him all the angrier. There is a knock on the door sometime later, and when Ser Gerold enters the room and hands him a letter he sighs. Dark wings, good words.


	36. Kill

**Seventh Month of 297 A.C. Riverlands**

**Lord Eddard Stark**

Back to war once more, the past few years had become a blur of worry and happiness. He had never been able to find Jon and he thought that either the boy was dead or in thrall to the Targaryens across the narrow sea. Though Bolton had never admitted as such, it was the only thing that could be the case. That Bolton’s son Domeric had grown to be such good friends with Robb was somewhat of a balm to the wounds the man’s father had opened and yet a sadness hung over Ned at the thought that he would likely never see Jon again. The arrival of Cat’s sister with news from Jon Arryn had been somewhat surprising, that she had confirmed what Jon had written had shocked and horrified both Ned and Cat in equal measure and when news of Robert’s death had reached them along with Stannis Baratheon’s declaration it had been the only thing to do to call the banners.

And so they had been in Moat Cailin 20,000 northmen ready to march and fight Lannisters. News of Tywin Lannister raiding the riverlands had reached them and there were other things that needed to be discussed. “Jaime Lannister holds Riverrun in his grasp, and Tywin Lannister raids the riverlands at will. It is time we did something about this. I would take suggestions from you all my lords.”

Lord Jon Umber bold as brass as always spoke. “I say we find Tywin Lannister and go and destroy him and show him a good northern welcome. A sword through the arse and the Lannisters will go running back to their hidey-holes without a second thought.”

There was some laughter and then Domeric spoke then his voice soft. “I disagree with my lord of Umber. Whilst it is tempting to teach the old lion of Lannister a lesson, there is a more prudent course of action. As of now the Kingslayer is the more dangerous of the two for he holds the chance to take the key to the Riverlands and once he does the crown will not stop there. We march for the Kingslayer and Riverrun and we shall win.”

There was some muttering at that and then the Greatjon spoke. “And what makes you so confident that we could win against the Kingslayer? Tywin Lannister has at best 12,000 men the Kingslayer has the same amount of men as us.”

There was more laughter and Ned looked at Domeric to see his ward had a very calm look about his face. “Jaime Lannister is something that his father is not my lord of Umber. He is rash and without patience. It is that, that will make him the target of so much danger and plot. Send a force to harry and distract his scouts, and you will make him blind, but he will charge through into the unknown and that would be his downfall.”

Again more murmuring and then Lord Willam Dustin spoke then. “The lad speaks sense. But the question then remains what to do with Tywin Lannister’s host. We cannot allow him to continue to raid without impunity.”

Ned spoke then. “We shall cross into the riverlands. Stevron Frey is said to be a much more amicable man than his father ever was. That his men also perished during the beginning of this war, will give him more cause to want to engage in a round of fighting with the Kingslayer I believe. The whole host shall march towards Riverrun I do not wish to take any chances with Jaime Lannister, for it is possible we have been fed the wrong information with regards to the number of men father and son have. When Jaime Lannister is beaten and captured, Tywin Lannister will want to come to his son’s rescue and that is when we shall trap him. I will send word to more of our lords to begin mustering men.”

Lord Rickard Karstark spoke then. “What guarantee is there that Frey will remain true and not side with Lannister? After all his brother is wed to one of them, and his daughter or granddaughter or some such is wed to another. They have too many connections with the Lannisters for this to be a convenient plan.”

“A valid concern my lord,” Ned answered. “But for the nonce I do believe Jaime Lannister is the bigger threat. We shall march to the twins and get an assessment of the situation there.” with that the meeting had ended and they had marched to the Twins and upon arriving had been greeted by a rather haggard looking Stevron Frey, Lord of the Crossing after his father’s death earlier in the year.

“My lord of Stark, it is a pleasure to see you. Though I do wish it could have been in different circumstances. Things have been quite tense as of late here in the Riverlands, with the lions patrolling our lands.” The man said.

Ned nodded. “Indeed my lord. These are very tumult times. And whilst I thank you for giving my men some place to rest their heads for the night at least, we are in a great rush to settle affairs. I would know what you know of events in the southern riverlands.”

The man was silent for a moment and then said. “Things are bad for the Riverlords my lord of Stark. Edmure Tully was captured during the battle of Riverrun and there are rumours that he has been slain. Riverrun remains under siege but its fields and produce are being burnt by Lannister men. Tywin Lannister continues raiding the Riverlands with impunity and last I had heard was stationed in Harrenhal.”

“Grim tidings indeed my lord. I heard that you had sent your strength down to fight beside Ser Edmure at Riverrun. Does this therefore mean you have none left to come south with us?” Ned asks.

The man nods. “Of the 3,000 men I sent south under my son Ryman only 50 are said to live. The remaining men I am afraid need to hold the twins should the old lion come marching this way.”

“That is fair enough,” Ned responds. “I hope you do not mind, but some more northmen will soon enough come marching this way under the command of Lord Rodrik Ryswell, they are going to be aiding us against this threat.”

The man smiles then. “Aye that would be most welcome my lord. Anything to aid us against the Lannisters is something that will be most welcome. That my brother Emmon is wed to one is a great shame for the man is nothing but a sot and a fool.”

Ned nods and then asks the man. “Are you aware of the number of men both of the lions has?”

The man sighs then. “The old lion has some 20,000 men with him and the Kingslayer has 10,000 men around Riverrun. Lannister shall not leave Harrenhal though and the Kingslayer holds the key to the riverlands within his grasp.”

Ned nods says his thanks to the man and then leaves for his room. The next night he and his men march for Riverrun, Domeric Bolton serving as the head of the scouts burning a path to lead the Kingslayer into their trap. Ned and his son Robb and the boy’s direwolf Greywind stand with the vanguard waiting and listening, and when horns are blown they fall into action. The Kingslayer as impatient as always, Ned swings his sword and begins cutting his way through men, slashing and hacking, slashing and hacking.  Slashing and hacking the battle charges along, Ned coats Ice in red once more, never one to enjoy the thought of battle. He keeps an eye on Robb during the battle.

Swinging and hacking, slashing and cutting, ducking and dodging. The battle rages, Ned takes a few hits but he ends up killing those who get in his way and doing his job as a warrior as he was taught all those long years ago in the Eyrie. The fighting goes on, swinging and slashing, swinging and cutting, ducking and dodging, hacking, slashing, cutting, ducking, his sword is red with blood and there is a sharp pain in his leg from where a spear hit it, but the bodies are piling up and that is when he sees him the Kingslayer approaching him with a rabid fury, clearly they are winning the battle.

Ned prepares for the duel only to see the Kingslayer knocked from his horse by the Greatjon and later on when the man is bound in chains, Ned orders the assault on the siege camp around Riverrun, and watches as tents burn and men scream and then the assault begins anew. The battle of the camps as it is called ends soon enough and they enter Riverrun heroes, Robb acclaimed by his bannermen for killing many men, though his son looks haunted and worried, Ned is proud of his son for holding his own during the battle though the sight of his direwolf tearing into so many is somewhat worrying.

They are in Riverrun for nearly two weeks before they receive word of an party of Lannister soldiers marching from Harrenhal towards Riverrun. Tywin Lannister’s greatest weakness his desire to aid his son in this time of peril will play into Ned’s hands. They march from Riverrun and meet this Lannister host at High Heart the sight of so many historical events for Starks in times gone by. The battle is fast and furious, Ned swings his sword and hacks and slashes cutting men down for size, swinging and slashing, cutting and hacking. Cutting and hacking, slashing and ducking, swinging and blocking more and more men begin to die.

It is a bloodbath, the lion of Lannister and the direwolf of Stark are clashing as Ned has wondered they would since the sack of King’s Landing and on it goes. His sword is red with blood, his armour covered in dirt and blood, and on it goes, swinging and hacking, roaring commands and breaking the Lannisters against the slopes of the hill. Finding the gaps and breaking them all at once, he cannot see Robb and he begins to worry at that his son cannot die not now, not ever. Swinging his sword, hacking and slashing, cutting and ducking, on and on it goes, his leg is beginning to cause him more pain and that is when the giant enters his line of vision.

The giant, the mountain that rides, Ser Gregor Clegane, a brute of a man. Their dance begins their swords clashing off of one another, sparks fly, brute strength against skill, on it goes, the dance. Sparks fly, pain and anger and blood and gore flow through this battle, swing, block, swing, duck, and swing, hit. This dance continues on and on, swinging and hitting one another, Ned groans internally as pain shoots through his body when Clegane hits him, though he manages to severely dent the brutes armour he is not sure how well he can keep doing this, his strength is floundering.

Battering against the mountain, and his arms are beginning to grow weary, swinging his sword, swinging and hacking, using all the tricks he knows in the book, swinging and slashing, swinging and slashing, hacking away. Slash, hack, duck and cut. The pain in his arms is growing but he goes on regardless, determined to ensure that he does not die wanting, or unaware he is not defenceless. Blood is pouring from both of their bodies now, their wounds are taking their toll, and then suddenly Clegane swings and kills Ned’s horse, and the dishonour of the move shocks Ned so much so that he does not have enough time to move from his horse before it lands on top of him. Crushed under the pain he roars in pain and then Clegane is over him. He says a prayer to the old gods as he prepares for a blow that never comes, for his son’s direwolf leaps onto Clegane and he is lost into the darkness.

The battle has stopped when he wakes up and the horse has been moved from him but there is nothing but a sense of death. “Robb….” He says softly.

His son arrives then and takes his hand. “Please father you must stay with us, please father don’t go.”

Ned smiles slightly then and says. “My time has come son. The blood is leaving me as is the life. I love you son and I am so very, very proud of you. Tell your mother and siblings that I love them, and tell Jon… tell Jon.” It is getting very hard to breathe now the pain is increasing. He can see his mother and his father, Brandon and Lyanna, “Tell Jon, that I love him.” With that Eddard Stark breathes his last.


	37. Sabotage

**Ninth Month of 297 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Regent Cersei Lannister**

For fourteen years she had been wed to that oaf Robert Baratheon, and she had suffered through his embraces and his jibes and other such nonsense. When she had learnt of his death during his campaign in Myr, she had laughed aloud and danced and sung. Jon Arryn’s death had also been a useful bonus Littlefinger doing his job properly, Jaime had been sent off to Casterly Rock to join their father in preparation. Joffrey her son had come to the throne and as his regent she ruled the kingdoms with an iron fist, that there were rebellions sprouting up was something of a problem, one she hoped her father could deal with.

As it were she now had to deal with the small council the oafs and fools and others who sat and talk about her son’s kingdom and see how she could benefit from this chaos. “Tell me my lords, to what extent will this war affect the kingdoms and how much should the crown expect with regards to levies and such to fall through?” she asked.

As expected Petyr Baelish spoke up first, the master of coin ever eager to voice his thoughts and be of use. “Well Your Grace, the Riverlords and the north have refused to pay their allotted taxes and fares resulting in a depletion of some sort. And with the reach and the Stormlords so firmly behind Renly Baratheon, it would seem that the throne’s coffers are greatly lacking in the funds needed to continue this war. Already the lords of the crownlands are beginning to lament their lack of ability to do as they once pleased, and the higher taxes they are being forced to pay grate on them.”

Cersei snorts then. “Do they not understand that in order for them to have their lifestyles and the pleasures they have enjoyed since the Dragons ruled, they must pay and aid in the war effort. For one thing Renly and Stannis both would disparage them and leave them in the cold. We are trying to ensure they do not suffer that fate. Besides as they are sworn to the throne it is their duty to pay such incomes as we ask of them.”

The master of coin spoke up once more. “This is very true, and it is something I and my colleagues in the treasury have been reminding them a fair amount. And yet it seems some of them are not willing to listen to reason and instead seek to look for choicer positions in ensuring their own strength and such.”

Cersei grits her teeth in frustration and takes another sip of wine. “And with regards to the treasury how much does the throne have left to continue this financing war?”

The master of coin looks down at his ledgers and then says. “There is about enough to keep going for another half a year at most Your Grace. If the war lasts longer than that, then it is likely that the throne will have to begin looking towards Essos for funds, and with the political situation in Essos being so fragile it is likely such funds will not be in vast supply.”

Cersei takes another longer sip of wine and then asks. “And what of our debts to the Iron Bank and to the Rogare bank? Have there been any developments there? Will they agree to extend the grace period?”

The master of coin looked at his ledgers once more and then said. “Yes it would seem so Your Grace. Another three months for the Rogare bank and another year for the Iron Bank. Considering Braavos is going through an election at the moment it is perhaps for the best that we use this for the throne’s full advantage.”

Cersei takes a swig of wine and then asks. “Are you sure it is wise to continue to trust the Rogare bank? That Robert was fool enough to take a loan from the allies of the Targaryens speaks of the error of his reign that my son’s reign will not be.”

The master of coin is silent for a moment and then says. “The Rogares have told me that they are willing to look past certain animosities in order to further their business. And the fact that they are not lending financial support to the Targaryens speaks of the limit of that alliance. We need not worry about them for the time being.”

Cersei nods and then turns to the other matters at hand. “Tell me Varys what news do your whispers bring you? What are our many enemies doing and plotting, and where do their weaknesses lie?”

The master of whispers was silent for a moment and then he spoke in that silvery voice of his. “Eddard Stark’s death has left the northmen confused and at a loss as to what to do. His son the new Lord Robb Stark sits in Riverrun and dithers unsure of where to go and whom to turn to. His bannermen and his uncle’s bannermen begin to grow impatient. Meanwhile Lord Tywin sits in Harrenhal gathering more strength.”

Cersei smiled somewhat at that. “The pup is terrified and too scared to act without his father’s guidance. But what of the men that Stark sent for to come from the north after he came to the Riverlands? Where are they and whose command are they under?”

“They have added to the northern force Your Grace, 10,000 men under the command of Lord Rodrik Ryswell. It would seem Robb Stark hesitates, between marching west and holding the riverlands. And then there is the issue of Renly Baratheon.” The eunuch said.

Cersei took another large gulp of wine and asked. “What of the Baratheon brothers? Does Renly continue to dally and play at war whilst his own brother sits and broods?”

The eunuch nodded. “Renly Baratheon has moved further and further towards King’s Landing Your Grace. Last my scouts had heard he was at Bitterbridge feasting and enjoying the hospitality of Lord Caswell. Meanwhile, Stannis Baratheon has set sail from Dragonstone.”

There was a moment of silence and then Cersei asked her tone panicked. “Where has the man set sail to?”

The eunuch smiled then and let loose a chuckle. “Storm’s End. It appears he means to take the castle he always firmly complained about. And he means to get the boy that Renly has named his heir should he die.”

Cersei begins laughing and the rest of the council with her, she raises her cup of wine and says. “To brotherly love, may they smash each other to pieces. No doubt Renly will hurry back to Storm’s End to try and sort out his brother. He always had more skill at arms than sense, much like Robert. But pray tell me Varys, what of the bastard? What is he?”

The eunuch is silent a moment and then responds. “A point of rallying for Renly Your Grace. Whilst he himself is loved within the Stormlands, in the Reach as well by association with the family, the boy serves as a reminder of what the Baratheons were before the former King wed you. Many within the Stormlands believe that the king and his siblings are no true Baratheons, they worry about that and Renly Baratheon is using that fear to justify his use of the boy.”

Cersei’s grip on the goblet tightened, the fools, the fools. And trying her best to keep her voice calm she said. “We still have spies within Storm’s End do we not?” the man nods and she goes on. “I want the boy removed from sight for good. No one shall see him or hear from him again. Renly Baratheon is never like to consummate his marriage or any future marriage. It is time for this to be done.”

The eunuch nods and then turns his attention to other matters. “The Vale has remain suspiciously quiet as of late Your Grace. Whilst we all know there was no love lost between Lysa Arryn and her lord husband that she has not decided to call the banners and aid her father and her family, is somewhat surprising. It does leave me to believe that there is something more going on in the Vale. Something that might be beyond my own understanding.”

That does not sound good, Cersei thought, but looking at Littlefinger she thought she might have a chance to remove one more viper from this den. “That is understandable after all my lord Varys, you do not have the ear of the lady Lysa as our good master of coin does. Perhaps it is time for you to pay her a visit. Did you not say you once took her maidenhead?”

Baelish smiles a cat like smile and nods. “Indeed I did, I took both Tully sisters maidenheads. And as such I have always been able to sway them round to a particular way of thinking. If you wish it Your Grace, I shall go to the Eyrie and speak with Lysa and make her see the sense in remaining neutral. Furthermore if you so wish it I could go to Riverrun and speak with Ser Edmure I have had a good relationship with the man for many years as well.”

Cersei considered this but such a journey would require months of Littlefinger being gone and she was not sure the throne could stand such a long journey. Instead she said. “Visits might be well and good, but your letters will have to do for now. Send them to both the Eyrie and to Riverrun. And let us see what sort of response we get. Now has the Stark boy considered the terms of our latest proposal?”

Grand Maester Pycelle who until that point had looked as though he were about to be drifting off shook himself awake and said in a dry ponderous tone. “He has sent a raven back that arrived this morning just before council Your Grace. Once more he has refused to accept the terms, unless there is justice for his father and for the people of his grandfather’s lands. He has lain the blame for this war squarely at Lord Tywin and King Joffrey’s feet.”

Cersei snorts then and says. “Of course he does, the boy is too young and foolish to know that his father caused this mess for himself by calling his banners and siding with Stannis Baratheon. No matter, soon enough we shall have his head on a spike and then we can finish the rest of those insolent family off as well.”

With that the council meeting ended and Cersei retired to her chambers where she found her cousin and Robert’s former squire waiting for her. Not waiting for him to speak, Cersei pushed him down onto the bed and began undoing his breeches when his cock was loose she began riding him like her life depended on it. She pretended that he was Jaime, that it was Jaime fondling her breasts, that it was Jaime spewing such sweet things to her. When she came, she screamed her pleasure loudly, and then slapped Lancel when he tried to come as well.

Sated she lifted herself off of her cousin and then turned to look at him. He had that revolting love struck look on his face and so she said simply. “I have need of you cousin.”

“What would you have of me sweet Cersei?” he asked.

“You still have contacts in Myr do you not? From your time travelling the free cities?” she asked.

Her cousin nodded and then asked. “What would you have of me?”

“I would have you bring me a bride for my son. And make so that anyone who wishes to support the dragons will have more reason to stick by my son. Bring me a dragon and you shall be named a Lord.” She said.

Her cousin looked at her hungrily then and said. “I will do all this, but I only want one thing. You.”


	38. Sensory Prosthetics

****

**Eleventh Month of 297 A.C. Isle of Jades**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

They were so close now, he could taste it. Westeros was in chaos as the Baratheon family fell apart, only fourteen years as the ruling family and they were falling apart. Daeron had taken great delight in hearing of the fighting being done in the riverlands and the Westerlands and the Reach and the Stormlands. It filled him with great pleasure and it made what he was about to do much easier. This thing had been plaguing him for some time, Jon was the true king and yet the boy was just that a boy with all the anger and rashness his mother had had as he was now, Daeron would not and could not place such a heavy burden on his nephew, and yet at the same time he wished for Jon’s pain to be gone. He hoped this thing that his nephew had himself suggested would be enough to sooth some of the pain.

As he looked at the audience gathered before him, 10,000 men of the golden company and various retainers of Myr on the Isle of Jades, all here for this announcement and the trial that was to follow it, he took a deep breath looked at Ashara who smiled at him and then strode forward.  “My good men and women, I thank you for coming here. I am sure you are all aware of what has been happening in Westeros, and whilst that brings us good feelings and happiness, there are several things that must be sorted out before we may feel at ease. One of these things involves Ser Jon Snow, he as served as our squire for many years before being knighted. He has served us loyally and faithfully, and we fell now is the time to tell you all the truths that have been with him for some time. Jon come forward.” His nephew walks forward and stands next to him, there is some murmuring at that and then he speaks. “Ser Jon, for many years has been known as the bastard son of Eddard Stark, now as many of you know Stark was an honourable man and whilst it might be acceptable for normal men to take lovers or to sire bastards during war, Stark is not one such man. He told a lie to protect his sister and her son from disgrace and the anger of an usurper. Ser Jon is the product of a union between my brother Prince Rhaegar and Lady Lyanna Stark. Stark claimed Snow as his bastard to protect him from Robert Baratheon’s wrath. Whilst we were at first happy to allow this to continue, now we are no longer content to allow this. Ser Jon has proven himself a true Targaryen and as such we hereby recognise him as a Prince of the Blood and formally name him Jon Targaryen. However, there is one thing that we must do to ensure alliances are maintained.” There was a lot of murmuring at that and Daeron knows that if allowed to go on impeded rabbles will form therefore speaking with as much authority as he can he says. “in order to ensure that alliances are kept and maintained and having spoken with Jon himself, we have decided that the soundest course of action is to remove Jon from the line of succession from the Iron Throne. This is done with his full agreement and as such we hope to ensure peace and prosperity once this is done. Jon do you agree?”

His nephew nods and gets down on bended knee. “I do hereby accept this decree Your Grace. And Promise to uphold it until the end of my days.”

Daeron smiles at his nephew and draws out Blackfyre, tapping it on both of Jon’s shoulders before proclaiming loudly. “Now then rise as Prince Jon Targaryen, the white dragon.” He sheathes his sword and helps Jon up and raises his hand to the cheers of those gathered. Once that has died down his nephew walks back to the rest of the family, and Daeron becomes grim once more. “Whilst there are many positive moments in running this enterprise, there are also many duties that we wish would not happen. This next thing is the example of this. Treason is never acceptable and when it is committed by those in the family it is even more unacceptable. As King I will never accept treason nor will I ever tolerate a threat to my people. Bring the prisoner in.”

There are many hisses and boos as his brother is brought in wearing chains his clothes torn and tattered, as he is brought before where Daeron stands, he looks into his brother’s eyes and sees nothing but defiance. Daeron speaks once more his voice cold and harsh. “Aegon Targaryen, you are brought before this council for a trial, under the accusations of committing treason to your king. What say you?”

His brother jutted his jaw out and said defiantly. “I refute those accusations and say that I was acting in the interests of the King and the cause with which we are all sworn to.”

There is murmuring at this and Daeron says coldly. “So you deny passing on secrets to our enemies in order to further your own cause which was to usurp us as King and seek to place yourself on the throne?”

His brother snorts then and his chains dangle somewhat. “Yes brother, I did it on your orders. I did everything you ever asked of me, I underwent torture due to your orders and I gained the trust of the Archon of Tyrosh and made it so that someone more favourable to our cause got power. All I did, I did under your guidance.”

There is more murmuring and then Daeron asks. “And what of your part in the undermining of Prince Jon’s confidence in his own abilities? It was you was it not who set him up to fall that day during the red summer? It was you who ordered that our sister be harmed so that Jon would be discredited?”

More murmuring and this time his brother actually smiles. “Yes, I admit that this was my doing. I have never liked the boy and have always thought him a fool, and you an idiot for grooming him. He is no true dragon but a fool meant for nothing more than to be killed. Ice and Fire that’s what one always says, well then there are two stark girls waiting to be wed. Kill the boy that was always the plan, Daenerys was just an unfortunate accident.”

Daeron feels anger begin to grow inside of him, and when he sees Jon stalking forward out the corner of his eye, he moves his arm and blocks him from causing a scene. “So you admit to sowing the seeds of torment for this family? Why what did you gain from doing such a thing, if not the throne?”

His brother laughs then and says. “Aha, very well then brother since this would be a farce without me playing along, yes I admit it. I wanted there to be tension between you and the boy. He is nothing in the greater scheme of things, and with it being his cousin and not his uncle leading the north he is of no use. He will bring nothing but worthlessness and savagery with his northern ways. I think his treatment of Daenerys is proof of that.”

This time Jon gets past his arm and strikes Aegon in the face saying. “You bastard you.” He pulls back and Aegon laughs once more.

“See how he strikes me. There is no honour in that, but then again a savage would know nothing of honour now would he? So tell me brother what will you do when he begins courting danger?” Aegon asks.

Daeron struggles to keep his calm and asks his brother once more. “Did you or did you not make a pact with the Archon of Tyrosh and then the prince of Tyrosh to see me removed and you placed on the throne?”

His brother nods then and his eyes are glinting with malice. “Aye under your instruction I did so. But I admit that once I learnt of the bastard I began to think perhaps it would be best if I were to actually seek the throne. Anyone who can trust the northmen after what they did to our family during the rebellion, does not need the throne. Lyanna Stark was a slut and a whore, and our brother was no better than her. I learnt that from you brother. And I had thought you knew it as well until you began treating him as your own son. I could not stand that.”

Daeron looks at his brother and says. “So you plotted treason and began working with my enemies to try and remove me from power. Is that why you worked with Lannister?”

His brother laughs. “Lannister? A pawn in a game long in playing, that the mad Lannister whore sent him was fortunate. He died and he served his purpose Daenerys is nowhere near king’s Landing and she never will be. It is time for this to end brother, either kill me or release me. I am innocent of many crimes labelled against me and you know it.”

Daeron swallows hard and says in a voice as cold and harsh as he can make it says. “Aegon Targaryen, for the crime of treason and breaking the peace I do hereby sentence you to death by execution. You will die now and once done your name shall never be mentioned again, ever.” There is a lot of murmuring and his mother actually cries out then.

“And who will carry out my sentence brother?” Aegon asks.

Daeron looks at his brother and says. “I will.” Among the gasps and the murmuring, Aegon is shoved forward and Daeron pulls out Blackfyre, and then says a quick prayer to the gods and then in one clean motion takes his brother’s head off. As the blood dribbles onto the ground he holds the head up and says. “Take note, this is what happens to traitors. Let this trial end and let us move forward.” He throws the head into the crowd and moves away.

Four days pass before Daeron feels well enough to call a meeting of his advisors, he keeps having nightmares of his brother’s death and confession, and news Ashara gave him has not truly helped. Still when the council meet he speaks directly. “What news has there been from Westeros?”

Ser Jon Connington speaks then. “Robb Stark is invading the Westerlands whilst Maron Greyjoy invades the Reach. Renly Baratheon is dead and Tywin Lannister and the Tyrells managed to beat back Stannis Baratheon capturing the man and some of his key allies. Dorne remains neutral but tensions are rising.”

Daeron nods and then asks. “And what of the Stepstones and the Vale? What do they do?”

“The Vale remains in its own turmoil something is going on there but what it is no one really knows. As for the Stepstones they are rife of the taking Your Grace. The sooner the better I say.” Connington responds.

“Very well then, it is time we struck out and took part in this war. Prince Jon shall lead the assault on the Stepstones, and the rest of us shall land in Dorne. It is time I were wed.” Daeron says.

There is silence a moment and then Connington asks. “No disrespect sire, but do you not think Prince Jon is too young to lead the assault on the Stepstones? He has never led in battle before.”

Daeron looks at the man and says. “Why then he must learn and what better way to learn than on the job itself. Besides he will need to become accustomed to the place for it shall soon become his home.”


	39. Ecotone

**2 nd Month of 298 A.C. The Crag**

**Lord Robb Stark**

The war had been waging for nearly a year now, and in that time Robb had learnt more about life than he would ever care to remember. He had held his father as the man had breathed his last, and the grief and pain that he had felt during that moment was something he had never wanted to feel again. Robb had ensured his father’s body was sent back north to Winterfell for the proper burial and whilst in mourning had promised to his father and to his mother that he would return alive and well and that he would have his revenge. His bannermen had argued for declaring independence but his father had been a strong advocate of Stannis Baratheon and so Robb had decided to honour his father and raid the westerlands in Stannis Baratheon’s name.

Leaving his uncle Edmure to hold the riverlands, Robb had marched west with his army of northmen bolstered by further reinforcements led by Lord Rodrik Ryswell, and so their first stop had been trying to get past the Golden Tooth. Greywind his direwolf had found a passage that went by the tooth but in the distance so as not to alert the watchers on the wall of their coming. And so in single file they had arrived into the Westerlands and fallen on the first host they could find, which had happened to be Stafford Lannister’s ill equipped host of green boys, the battle of Oxcross was a slaughter, Robb wielding Ice for the first time had bathed it in blood and at the end of it there had been a big victory for them.

From Oxcross Robb had under the advice of his bannermen decided to branch out and spread his resources somewhat. He’d sent Lord Rodrik Ryswell and Galbert Glover and their men off to raiding the coast, plundering as much gold and other useful resources as they could. He’d sent the Greatjon Umber and his men to capturing the various gold mines spread across the westerlands, a task the lumbering giant had taken great happiness in doing. Maege Mormont he’d sent off to capture life stock and in ensuring that they were taken back to the Riverlands. Robb himself took the rest of his men off towards fighting and capturing more castles. Ashemark the seat of House Marbrand, had fallen after a bit of a struggle, and Lord Damon Marbrand had eventually fallen to his knees and accepted death rather than surrender.

All the whilst this was going on, Robb was firmly aware of another host being raised and trained at Lannisport by Ser Daven Lannister, another Lannister cousin, those damned lions seemed to know no ends to their fucking. It was with this in mind that Robb had looked towards taking more castles, the Crag whilst not exactly being a prosperous castle or even land, it held some ancient prestige that could send ripples around the Westerlands should it fall. And that was how Robb had managed to convince his men that they needed to go there. The battle to take the castle was one of the toughest Robb had ever had to fight, he had taken several arrow wounds during the course of it, whilst Theon had nearly been killed during the fighting. The castle had fallen though and the Westerlings had bent the knee to Stannis Baratheon, a man Robb had never met. He felt some sense of victory in knowing that the Lannisters were losing land fast and there was little they could do about it.

His wounds had needed to be healed before he could full commit to any further plans and it was for this reason that it was now he was holding a meeting with the lords who were with him during the taking of the Crag as well as the lords who had come back from the missions he had given them. Taking a sip of wine he spoke. “Tell me my lords of the state of our campaign do we hold the West firmly in our hands and if so can we extend that to complete control?”

Lord Willam Dustin who had been his father’s strong right hand and was now his spoke up then. “I believe that looking at the reports we have all amassed and collected during this time my lord, that it does seem as though the Westerlands is beginning to shake somewhat. There is very little man power left within the Westerlands itself and as such one more big battle could truly be the issue that settles the matter once and for all. As to whether or not we can extend complete control over the Westerlands, unless you begin acting more like one of these southerners I do not think so.”

The Greatjon snorted then. “Aha, acting like a southerner. I have never heard a more absurd term for describing a Stark my lords. Why should we hold towards the south when they have never done a damn thing for us? This king we fight for is in the thrall of a red whore and has for so long ignored us why now should we do his bidding?”

“Because my father believed him to be the rightful king of Westeros and as such I do to believe that Stannis Baratheon is better than any Lannister on the throne.” Robb responded.

There was some murmuring at that and then Lord Rodrik Ryswell spoke then. “There was word from Riverrun whilst you were out my lord. It does appear that Tywin Lannister has struck and alliance with the Tyrells. And it appears they beat Stannis Baratheon when the man tried to take King’s Landing. Baratheon and some of his key advisors now sit rotting in the black cells of King’s Landing. There is naught a chance of him coming to aid us. And with the Tyrells and their men now backing the Bastard boy on the throne there is a strong chance that this war will go south for us.”

“Then now is the perfect time to declare independence. If the king that the Ned was fighting for is in bars what is there left for us in the south I ask you? I say we burn the West and sack Lannisport and then declare independence and leave the southerners to fight one another.” The Greatjon boomed.

Lord Willam spoke then quietening the hubbub that had been developing at this statement. “And what would you suggest we do when the southerners turn their eyes towards us when they are done fighting one another. We have no fleet to defend our shores and we have no defences other than Moat Cailin. We would be cut off from trade and would be alienated from many other places. And there also leaves the fact that the riverlands would also be under threat by association. That idea is a ridiculous suggestion Jon.”

The Greatjon looked greatly affronted at this and then asked. “So then what would you suggest we do? If not independence would you suggest we keep fighting for a king who is now in chains and will likely be executed? I will not do that.”

Lord Dustin was silent for a moment and then said. “Well we have received news of a new force emerging that could seriously threaten the Lannisters and their new allies. The dragons are back and I suggest we use that to our advantage.”

There was silence for a long time and then the Greatjon thundered. “Dragons? You want me to bend to the dragons? When we fought to remove them. Have you gone mad Dustin? I will not fight for the dragons.”

There is more murmuring generally in agreement with this statement and then Dustin speaks once more. “It makes sense my lords. Rather than try and become independent and contiuely face the threat of invasion why not side with the one party that needs our help the most? The dragons should they get the throne will be in our debt and there will be a chance to clean the slate. Besides Lord Stark’s bastard son Jon Snow commands the host that has taken the Stepstones.”

More murmuring but Robb perks up. “Jon? Jon is back? They brought him back?”

Dustin smiles at that and says. “They did indeed my lord. I do think there are some things that could be discussed with the dragons, things that could benefit us greatly. We have a common enemy now, why not use that to serve our purposes and theirs?”

There is sense in what the man says but Robb hesitates. “But we have declared for Stannis Baratheon would it not be dishonourable to then side with the dragons? And furthermore what is there to say Daeron Targaryen would not just take my head when this all occurs?”

There are voices of agreement with that and Robb can see Dustin sigh somewhat. “Honour is a fleeting concept in war my lord. Honour is good when dealing with certain situations but now this is war and we must act accordingly. You are the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, it is up to you what we do but also take into mind that this dragon is not the others who came before him. And it is said that your brother continues to hold sway with him. He has already wed Arianne Martell and Dorne have already begun invading the Reach, soon enough the alliance the Lannisters and the Tyrells struck up will begin to crack.”

Robb considers this and then turns to look at Ser Wylis Manderly a man with a very sharp political mind. “Ser Wylis, what would you suggest? After all White Harbour has the most contact with the south and with the Free cities. Is going with Daeron Targaryen a politically smart move and something that could benefit our campaign here?”

Ser Wylis is a big man, and someone Robb trusts with intrigues, but not someone he trusts with a sword. However, when he speaks his tone is measured. “I do believe that working with the Dragons would be a good idea my lord. We do not know what is delaying the lords of the Vale from coming to our aid, and as such with the new alliance between the Lannisters and the Tyrells soon enough they would come knocking on our door, and then we would be without the power to beat them. Independence might seem like a nice dream, but that is all it is right now, unless you wish to retreat back north and look like a coward to the realm. So yes I say siding with the dragons gives us more allies and a chance to break the alliance.”

Robb runs a hand through his hair and begins thinking, a difficult decision he turns to Lord Rodrik Ryswell and asks. “Has there been any news from Riverrun as to what exactly has been happening in the Riverlands or the Vale?”

Lord Rodrik Ryswell is silent for a moment and then says. “It would appear that Tywin Lannister has sent his men out to reaving and raiding once more. Gregor Clegane has command of some 500 men that have been causing all kinds of chaos in the riverlands. As to the Vale, Ser Edmure writes that not much more has become known to him compared to the last time he saw you. All he knows is that something is definitely delaying the lords of the Vale.”

Robb sighs then and says. “Then I suppose it has been decided, we shall join with the Dragons. I pray the gods do not see fit to curse us for this broken agreement. Where are they being based just now?”

Lord Willam speaks then. “I do believe they are making their way towards Red Lake, as it has been said, they are making some solid progress through the Reach my lord.”

Robb nods and responds. “Very well then we shall prepare to send envoys out to meet with them, for terms of an alliance.”


	40. People=Shit

**Fourth Month of 298 A.C. Rainwood**

**Prince Jon Targaryen**

He was back in Westeros for the first time in seven years, it felt strange to be back in Westeros once more. He was so used to Essos and the heat and the humidity that the beginning wanes of summer were foreign to him. Still the taking of the Stepstones had felt like the right sort of homecoming, there had still been pirates on the islands, and Jon and his men had managed to clear them out with a rather large amount of success, Dark Sister had been polished red with blood at the end of it all. Those pirates who’d had the sense to bend the knee Jon had utilized in sailing their ships and manning the rest of the abandoned old forts. He wondered whether his uncle- by the gods it still felt strange to call him that- would still wish to give him the Stepstones, he knew his ancestor Prince Daemon had been king of this place, but it looked so drab and weary that he was not sure what use could be had for it.

As it were though once he was satisfied that the Stepstones were secure he had ordered the men all 4,000 of them who were under his command to set sail and they had landed at Greenstone some three weeks ago. Lord Eldon Estermont was an old and tired man though his sons had put up a strong fight, and Jon had felt it a shame to have to kill them. The castle had been sacked and Estermont had been killed, his throat slit, a mercy the men said though Jon harboured some reservations. From there they had moved into the Rainwood, where they had taken the Weeping Town from House Boiling. And it was here where they were now plotting their next move. He looked at the men gathered in the lord’s solar and thought for a moment before speaking. “My lords and sers, we have spent some two weeks here now. And as we sit here there has been much development within the town and within the war effort as a whole. Ser Laswell if you wish to speak on that would be good. Let us know how our royal uncles do.”

Ser Laswell Peake a man who hungered to bring his house back to its former glory spoke with passion. “Thank you my prince. Since we took the Weeping Town communication has come in from the Reach and from Dorne. His grace King Daeron is meeting with Lord Robb Stark later on, or perhaps he has already met with him. The king plans to negotiate an alliance with Stark and to end the Lannister hegemony over gold and such. Prince Viserys has been winning much reward for himself raiding the southern reach, he even beat a host commanded by Lord Titus Peake.”

Jon nodded his stomach had done a flip at the thought of meeting Robb again. Perhaps when they saw each other in King’s Landing, they could catch up and move on. Clearing his mind he spoke again. “Very good. That is very pleasing news. Now there is the issue of the rest of the Stormlands. As you all know, we know from Lord Estermont that the Stormlords are divided and as such some are lost without a cause. My proposals are that we look towards Cafferen, Grandison and Fell to bring our numbers up before we look to take the ultimate prize. I also suggest we send a raven to Blackhaven.”

There is some murmuring at that and Chains a sergeant speaks then. “But my prince, would that be a wise move? After all, all three of the lords you just mentioned there bent the knee to the usurper after the battle of Summerhall, and furthermore they provided for Renly Baratheon and later Joffrey Baratheon, it is said Tommem Baratheon is to be wed to a daughter of Lord Grandison to solidify their alliance. What chance do we have to bring them to our side?”

Jon considers this for a moment and says. “I know that it seems unlikely that they will join us now. But we have been doing more than just sitting here and twiddling our thumbs, we already have the allegiance of most of the Rainwood, and with Jon Connington having taken his own seat back from that nephew of his, it is perhaps time for us to strike out and reach old allies. And if they do not respond favourably we shall break them and make them bend the same way the usurper did.”

There is silence for a moment before Ser Cole asks. “And what of Blackhaven? What reason would Dondarrion have for siding with us? Or for that matter the marcher lords? Though Dondarrion is wed to a Dayne, he and the other marcher lords are mustering to deal with the Dornish forces gathering in the Boneway. Sooner or later that will come back to haunt us. Dondarrion served with distinction at the battle of the blackwater, he has no need for us.”

At this Jon smiles, and feels good for what he is about to reveal for it was something he himself had suggested to the King. “Well, whilst that might be the case, I can safely and confidently inform you that Dondarrion has been working for us for some time. His father Lord Morros Dondarrion fought for the Targaryens and later for the usurper, but Morros was always in contact with the king throughout the king’s exile. When Morros died, it became apparent that there was some need of reward required for this kind of dedication and therefore it has become apparent that Beric Dondarrion is just the sort of man needed to rally the younger storm lords to the king’s cause. As he himself is young, fairly good looking and seems to embody the values of knightly chivalry, the man will want to expand upon that if he wants more influence.”

Cole speaks then and asks. “And how exactly would you propose having him have this greater influence my prince? Unless you wish for him to become Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, then such a thing would not happen. As far as we know he is firmly in the Baratheon camp.”

Jon smiles once more and says. “All an act, and whilst the king has made it firm that Prince Viserys shall control Storm’s End and the Stormlands once this war is done, there is something that Dondarrion wants rather than a title. He wants revenge for the death of his father, a man killed on Lannister orders for coming too close to discovering a secret that many others have since died for.”

“And what is this knowledge my prince?” Ser Franklyn Flowers asks.

“That is for the king to know. Just know that Dondarrion is working for us and that the Marcher lords, no matter their own protests over Dornish involvement will soon be swayed. There is only so much the Lannisters can offer them after all. Now then what more is there for us to discuss?” Jon says.

There is silence for a moment and then Derrick Two Tonne, a big brute of a man speaks his voice slow. “What will be done with the Stepstones my prince? The king has given it to you, but now that we are all here, what will be done with it? Tyrosh is sure to be eyeing it up and the king will not be pleased to see it go.”

Jon looks at the man, a brute who served his purpose to Jon when they were in Essos but now he is wondering why he kept him round. “Tyrosh will do nothing whilst war is waging here. The prince of Tyrosh knows his hold on the throne depends on whether or not the king wins this war. So the Stepstones shall be free for some time. Once this war is done, the king will decide what needs to be done. For the moment though that is not a pressing issue. Is there aught else?”

Ser Franklyn speaks then. “Yes my prince. Since Lady Allyria is wed to Lord Beric, there has been talk about what the king and yourself mean to do about your own wedding. And since you no longer hold a claim to the throne, and since the king seems so willing to allow you a chance to prove yourself, we are all wondering who you mean to choose as your bride?”

Jon is somewhat taken aback by the promptness of the question, though he supposes he should not be considering he grew up around these men and heard them speak with all kinds of tongues to those not the king. Taking a deep breath he calms himself and then says. “I have not given it much thought to be completely honest Ser. As it is the war takes precedent over any feeling I have. As it is, I have no claim to the throne therefore political marriages need not be made for me, nor do I need to make them. I will take my time to consider before moving on.” It is the only way he knows how to say he does not want to wed, not now anyway not without first looking at one girl first.

There is a nod of agreement then and the meeting comes to an end. The ravens to Grandison, Cafferen and Fell are sent out later that day, and it takes them a week to respond and when they do all three respond with a no. Given that they were all tied to marriage he should not be as surprised as he is, still he thought this plan would work clearly it has not. It is frustrating, and yet so it is that Jon finds himself armouring up and getting ready for another battle. Their forces meet one another at Crow’s Nest and it turns out to be one of the bloodiest battles that Jon has ever fought in. The marcher lords are said to be some of the best warriors in the realm and he can see why. They fight with such precision and skill that Jon has a hard time keeping himself on his horse. His sword is covered in blood as is his armour and some of it is his, thankfully Ronald and Harry are there with him protecting him and aiding him in bringing down those foes who prove to be rather less than accommodating.

The battle raged on swinging and slashing, hacking, cutting and ducking, doing all he could bring about a quick end to this battle. And yet the alliance of Cafferen, Fell and Grandison though not as powerful as it had been during the rebellion was one that still challenged the army under Jon’s command. Dark Sister was wet with blood and still more and more men were coming. Had he gotten it wrong? Was there something more to all this? The agony ate away at him as the battle raged on, swinging and slashing, hacking and cutting. Gods he was getting tired.  Still he had to keep swinging, slashing and hacking, gods it was tiring, his eyes and arms were beginning to get weary. On and on it went, swinging and slashing. The blood was pouring through him now, pumping as his heart pumped as quickly as it ever had, this was a key battle and he knew it.

He was beginning to feel very much like a doll, being swung from side to side and his arms and legs were moving of their own accord. And dear gods his chest was aching like mad, when that had happened. On it went, on and on and just when he thought it would never end he saw men throwing down their swords and surrendering, for a moment he thought that perhaps it was his own men and that he had failed, but no it was the enemy. Lords Cafferen and Fell were brought before him in chains and swore their fealty to King Daeron with Jon acting in the king’s stead. And as his men cheered him, he felt a swell of pride, he was coming into his own.


	41. The Great Big Mouth

**Sixth Month of 298 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Queen Regent Cersei Lannister.**

Since her father had come to save the day during the battle of Blackwater, things in King’s Landing and the Red Keep had changed. Gone were the frivolities and the amusements with which Cersei had tried to keep herself sane, and they were replaced by dullness and a sharp precision that reminded her of her life in Casterly Rock after her mother died. Her father seemed intent on ensuring that things happened quickly and securely, and yet with the Reach under threat, the wedding between Joffrey and Margery had been expected to be put on hold and yet it had not been, and so her son and the Tyrell girl had wed, and all claimed the marriage had been consummated but Cersei had her suspicions.

Council meetings were now a much more docile affair without the Tyrell presence and yet there were still some very pressing matters that needed to be discussed. Her father spoke as always in a commanding tone. “We are still at war, whilst the Vale continues to dither and disappear into chaos, the rest of the realm is being sunk into more despair. Word has come from Garlan Tyrell it would appear that his father led some 20,000 men to fight Daeron Targaryen at Red Lake and died in the ensuing battle, Ser Garlan led a retreat back to Highgarden, but it does seem the wolf and the dragon have allied with one another.”

At this Petyr Baelish the master of coin spoke in surprise. “They are allies? Stark and Targaryen? Now that is something I thought I’d never hear. Strange bedfellows they make, considering the rumoured hatred Daeron Targaryen bears Lyanna Stark.”

Her father spoke once more. “War does sometimes make for very strange bedfellows Lord Baelish. Whilst Daeron Targaryen might profess to despise Lyanna Stark, having the alliance of the north is something no sane man would give up a chance on. It is one more nail in the coffin and something we must work hard to counter.”

“And how do you propose we do that father?” Cersei asks her eyebrows raising. “The wolf pup has very well destroyed much of the westerlands, cousin Daven is stuck in Lannisport unable to move for fear of being destroyed once more. With the Starks and the Targaryens allied together there is something very much a miss here. And there does not seem to be any weak link in their alliance.”

Her father looks at her with eyes like ice and his voice is cold and collected when he responds. “Stark and Targaryen will now need to look either towards the Reach or towards the Riverlands once more. The Reach is under enough attack as it is, from Ironborn and from Dornishmen, Daeron Targaryen if he is the man I think he is, will decide that the Reach need not suffer another army invading it, and instead shall turn his attention towards securing the Riverlands from potential threats. That is how we shall deal with this alliance. There are lords in the Riverlands questioning the alliance with the Targaryens, those who bear Daeron’s brother too much hatred for those they lost during the war, we shall exploit that and make it so that they are our own allies rather than those of the enemy.”

Lord Varys speaks then. “A good plan my lord hand, and yet the riverlands were badly affected during the campaign that yourself and Ser Jaime instigated, what is there to sway these lords to your side instead of to the side of the enemy, in this case Daeron Targaryen?” the man pauses and then laughs. “Of course Stannis Baratheon.”

Her father nods and says. “Indeed Lord Varys. Stannis Baratheon was  a man many of the Riverlords were unwilling to support due to his belief in that red woman who has since disappeared. Since he converted to her faith and burnt the sept on Dragonstone, there has been a general outcry against the man and his family. I do think it is time we took advantage of that.  Stannis Baratheon and his generals have been rotting in the Black cells for a long time now, perhaps a public execution and some reparations from Dragonstone and the narrow sea will help soothe them. Many of the lords that might consider Targaryen are after all those lords who are quite faithful, Smallwood, Mooton and Darry especially. If we win them over to our cause then we hold the riverlands.”

A good plan, a very good plan Cersei knew and yet she had to ask. “And what of the Tullys, the Blackwoods and the Brackens? They will not be so easily swayed by such a display that might earn you the loyalty of the lesser Riverlords. They will need something serious.”

Her father looked at her a moment and then said. “Edmure Tully is a man ridden by grief, his father has died during the war, his sisters are going through their own troubles and his own wife was cheating on him during the course of their marriage. Her lady in waiting has been working her charms on the Lord Tully, when the time comes she will do what she needs to do.”

“What of Bracken and Blackwood both are old enemies and are not like to do much the same as the other. Blackwood keeps the old gods and will not follow the example of his liege lord should the seven come into play.” Cersei says.

Her father nearly smiled then, a rare thing. “Lord Bracken need not be a concern, he has already agreed to take on the Blackwoods in their own war. And the Blackwoods are too weak to do anything about it. The Mallisters are another issue, Myrcella is no longer going to be going to Dorne that much is the truth, instead she shall wed Patrek Mallister and the Mallisters shall side with us. Mallister will follow his liege lord in doing so.”

Cersei is somewhat shocked. “Myrcella was in Dorne for a good year, how has she managed to return to King’s Landing and why was I not informed of this?”

Her father looks at her with something akin to disdain and she feels anger begin to boil inside of her. His voice is calm when he says. “Because you were not required to know at the time. She has been staying with Tyrion in his manse during the course of this war so far. Now what more is there to discuss? What is the state of the treasury?”

Lord Baelish looks at his notes and sighs. “Alas my lord hand the treasury is beginning to run on empty. The cost of this war has been phenomenal and is something that was planned nor prepared for. Furthermore with the cost of supplying for the troops during King Robert’s expedition to Myr was something that exceeded expectations. Then there is the fact that most of the free cities are undergoing some serious economic changes themselves and at this time do not seem content to allow many things to go unnoticed.”

Cersei felt anger boil up. “And what of the kingdoms, do they not know their duty to pay taxes to their rightful king? Where is the money from them?”

Her father looks at her dismissively then and says. “We are at war Cersei, those kingdoms in rebellion will not pay taxes to a throne they believe is against them. And as for those regions loyal to us they are struggling to hold themselves together let alone pay money for up keeping the crown. It would seem we shall need to look elsewhere for more funds.”

“What about the Faith, if there is one thing Robert was good for it was his ability to keep the faith happy. The High Septon is someone who will benefit the most from the death of Stannis Baratheon, if we can execute him in return for funds I am sure the High Septon would be most happy to do so.” Cersei suggests.

Her father considers this option and then says. “That might very well be a sound move. Though with this High Septon one never knows where his mood might turn. Still a loan is a loan, Lord Baelish you shall venture to the Great Sept of Baelor tomorrow to get the work done. And tell me has there been word from the Vale as to what they are doing?”

The master of coin for the first time seems very nervous, though with Baelish it is hard to tell. His voice is very calm when he responds. “Lysa has been very scant in her letters as of late. Very rarely does she say much or little of note. It is all details meant to confuse, but I know her concerns. It appears the Mountain clans and certain variants of the noble houses within the Vale are beginning to cause trouble for her and her son and as such she feels unsafe and unwilling to send men down to aid King Joffrey.”

“A craven that is what Lady Arryn is. Using brute force would be the best way to deal with the savages of the mountain clans and for those nobles who insist on causing her trouble. She is too timid to be the ruling lady in that land. The lords would eat her alive were it not for whom her husband had been. Perhaps it is time we sent some aid?” she says looking toward her father.

Her father does not look at her and merely says. “Send word to Lady Arryn that when the time comes and any she can send to us, will be remembered and greatly rewarded when the war ends. Now there is the matter of the Stormlands, Varys what news do you have on that front?”

The eunuch looks somewhat distracted as he speaks. “Well my lord hand, it would appear that Jon Targaryen has indeed moved forward from Rainwood and has recovered sufficiently in time to begin laying siege to Storm’s End. With the castle under siege, and Edric Storm still alive, Cortnay Penrose is still resisting the terms with which the Targaryens act. Though it would seem as though he is beginning to crack. The man holds no love for the lions as it is.”

“He also holds no love for the dragons either. I do remember Ser Cortnay from the rebellion, a stern and strong man and someone who remembers old grudges. He will not bend the knee to either of us, and as such must be removed.” Her father said.

“But how will we do that? We have not the coin for the faceless men and the loyalty of the Stormlords is doubtful at best, with Grandison dead and his son following the Targaryen bastard. We do not have enough reason to tempt to end the lives of their previous Edric.” Cersei states.

Her father does not answer her question and instead dismisses the rest of the council leaving only himself, Cersei herself and her uncle Kevan. “There is one way to ensure that the crown that sits atop your son’s head does not come toppling down, and that is through further marriage.”

“And whose marriage do you propose father and to whom?” Cersei asks her eyes narrowing.

“Yours, you shall wed Willas Tyrell and ensure that the Tyrells support does not falter as this war continues.” Her father says.

“Absolutely not!” she responds. “I am the Queen Regent and I shall not wed again, especially not to a cripple and a man who has no balls in him.”

Her father gives her a cold stare for a moment and then says. “Willas Tyrell is heir to the second most powerful house in the realm, and is a good and clever man. But that is not the point, you are still of an age to sire children and silence these rumours started by Stannis Baratheon. And as such you shall do what is good for this family.”


	42. Summertime

**Eighth Month of 298 A.C. Westerlands**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

He’d always known that when he landed in Westeros he would have to wed Arianne Martell, and he would be lying if he’d said that some part of him hadn’t thought about what she was like.  She was very good looking that was true, beautiful even, and she was a handful, something he liked. That she was no maiden he did not truly care about, he had not the patience for having a maiden in his bed, not after Ashara, and that the three of them had had their fun during and after the wedding made things even better. She’d written to tell him she was with child and he was happy with that, it made him wish to get this war over and done with. The war which for him had begun with the invasion of the Reach had begun successfully with victories over forces led by various Tyrells and their bannermen, and then the appearance of the northmen under Willam Dustin who had aided them in breaking Mace Tyrell’s host at Red Lake had been a bonus.

It was this that had brought Daeron and his men to the Westerlands, an offer of alliance from Robb Stark the new Lord of Winterfell. A chance for them both to gain their leverage and revenge against the Lannisters. And it was one offer that Daeron was curious to explore and so he found himself accompanied by four of his most trusted advisors- Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Harry Strickland, Ser Willam Darry and Ser Jorah Mormont- to the camp where Robb Stark was laying siege to Lannisport. As he entered the main tent he saw four men with Stark and once the pleasantries had been exchanged Daeron spoke first. “My lord, I must thank you for sending your lord Dustin to aid us against the Tyrells. The aid was much appreciated and as such has helped us in dealing a significant blow to the Tyrells and their ambitions. Now I do believe we are here to discuss terms so we might as well begin.”

Stark speaks then portraying a sense of confidence that comes from having fought and led men in battle. “Thank you Your Grace for the praise. It does make sense to have sent Lord Dustin and those men to have aided you at Red Lake, after all you are the rightful king and are fighting the same enemies as we are. To fight against one another would have been beyond stupid and would have been downright detrimental to us both.”

Daeron nods impressed by how much of a straight talker this boy is, considering the southern lords he has met since landing in Westeros. Still there are some things that need discussing. “Of course it is all well and good with that aid, but war makes us all fickle and as such I must ask. Your father declared for Stannis Baratheon when this war broke out and as such you continued fighting for the man even until he was done and dusted at the Blackwater. I must ask, what is there to keep your loyalty to me?”

Some of the men present with Stark begin grumbling there, but Stark himself remains impassive and merely says. “Stannis Baratheon is a dead man, he was killed during the past month’s trials in King’s Landing. Besides he was never the true king, a man who worships a god that calls for fire and burning could not be someone I would ever bend to. But you, you have proven to be a good and just man, from what Lord Dustin here has told me of what happened at Red Lake. And as such I do feel confident in maintaining loyalty to you. Furthermore there is the fact that Jon is your family as much as he is mine.”

Daeron takes a sip of water keeping his face blank, he knew such a thing would come about. “And what does my nephew have to do with this alliance?”

Stark is silent and then says. “I know now why he was taken, and whilst there is anger in my person about that, I can understand somewhat why it was done. I can also understand that my cousin might be a different man to how he might have been otherwise, however, I do wish to know him once this war is done and I wish for him to become family once more, and as such this makes the first term of our alliance that I wish to present. I wish for my sister the Lady Sansa to wed Prince Jon Targaryen.”

There is some murmuring at that and then Lord Harry Strickland speaks. “Is that a wise move my lord? After all Prince Jon does not have a claim on the throne and as such the marriage could be seen as an insult to the Lady Sansa, though of course it could also be seen to look as though you were disregarding the Prince’s own high rank.”

“I disagree, Prince Jon is a cousin to the Starks and as such is family, regardless of whether he has a claim on the throne, he does have the relationship that might very well keep us together, and as such my sister the Lady Sansa is a great beauty.” Stark responds

Daeron raises a hand to silence Strickland when he goes to speak once more, and then looks at Stark and says. “A smart move my lord, and one that would indeed bring us closer together. After all Jon is like a son to me and someone I consider highly respected and worthy of the honours that he is winning for himself during this war. Though I was considering a match between yourself and my sister Princess Daenerys I do believe that perhaps this might be a good double marriage.”

There are some murmurings at this and then Lord Stark asks. “And what more would the terms of this alliance be if we both agree to the double marriage?”

Daeron considers for a moment and then says. “We propose that in return for these two marriages, that we shall accept the fealty of the north in return for your aid in finishing of the Lannisters and anyone else who might be declared our enemy. In return for this aid, the Starks and the north shall get to keep half the gold taken in plunder from the Westerlands and a third of the plunder taken from the Reach. Furthermore the North will get to retain some autonomy with the throne only getting involved when we feel the issue is a pressing matter.”

There is silence for a long time as Daeron and Stark look at one another and then finally Stark speaks. “I believe those terms are reasonable and so gladly accept.” He stands then as does Daeron and they shake hands before, Stark gets on bended knee and formally pledges himself to the Targaryen cause. A ceremony follows shortly after where the northern army do the same.

Once that is all taken care of Daeron calls a meeting to discuss the siege of Lannisport. “For how long have you laid siege to Lannisport and what is the status of the enemy and your own position?” he asks.

Stark speaks confidently then. “We have been laying siege to Lannisport for a month now, and have been living off of the livestock surrounding the area during that time. As such we know that Daven Lannister has some 2,000 men within the city and that they grow more and more restless every day. As for our own position we have 12,000 men here and with the alliance between us we now have 22,000 men Your Grace.”

Daeron nods and then says. “Then we must force Lannister’s hand otherwise we shall become the bane of our own campaign.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” Dustin asks.

Daeron considers and then says. “We do what was once used to take Tyrosh, we use the battering rams to bring down the gates and we send men up the walls, and we find ways into the city from the inside and begin working the angles to end their siege.”

“And how do you suggest we do that Your Grace? It is not as if we have men willing to turn cloak from the Lannisters with us.” Domeric Bolton says.

Daeron smiles, and says. “Ah but we have men here to are known for being fickle. Sellswords make the best sort of case and as such I have a man working the job just now. Inside the very walls of the city.” There are various questions all of which Daeron ignores and says. “I want you all to be ready for when the moon goes down tonight for that is when the gates will be at their most vulnerable, as is always the case when a changing of the guard happens.”

“This is all well and good Your Grace, but how can we know that this plan will work?” Bolton asks.

Daeron merely smiles and says “Trust me it will work.”

The war council meeting comes to an end then as the night descends and the changing of the guards occurs, Daeron is armoured and ready to fight. He and his commanders as well as Robb Stark and the man’s commanders meet and begin the assault on the gates, when it looks like the guards on the gates will be occupied they ride their horses towards the eastern gate where the defence is weaker, and after a few minor scuffles they manage to enter the city and soon enough the fighting begins for good. Daeron feels the rush of adrenaline that courses through him, swinging his sword, hacking and slashing, cutting men down. He begins battering them down, his commanders and friends by his side, soon enough more men begin pouring through the gates and the fighting continues.

Slashing, swinging and hacking, cutting men down to size, doing all he can. His sword is covered in blood, his armour in mud and dirt, gods is he beginning to grow tired and yet still he fights on. Swinging and hacking, slashing and swinging, ducking and dodging. He takes his fair share of hits but as time goes on it begins to wear not on him but the enemy, swinging and slashing. The dance continues and on and on and on. Swinging and hacking, ducking and dodging.  Battering through the enemy as they come through, swinging and slashing, ducking, dodging. By the gods is it becoming tiring doing this, but the thoughts of his unborn child keep him going, slashing and hacking, cutting and ducking. Blocking, hacking through all of them. His armour is growing heavy his sweat moulding with the blood and the other things that are mixing in together with one another.

Soon enough the battle begins wind down and yet the lions continue fighting, doing their best to refuse Daeron the chance to ease down and take a bath, but still the fighting goes. His sword is bathed in blood as his armour and his person, the men keep fighting but he knows soon enough someone or something will have to give, none can keep fighting that hard and try to keep holding themselves to a high standard. Eventually, when it feels like he is going to fall from his horse in tiredness, the men surrender and their commander is brought before him in chains. Daeron caked in dirt, mud and blood looks at Daven Lannister who himself looks bruised and bloody and says. “You have proven a valiant enemy Lannister, were your last name not Lannister I might very well consider keeping you alive and using you as an ally against the boy on my throne. But alas you are a Lannister and so must die. Do you have aught else to say?”

The man looks at him and says. “You will never sit the throne dragon, not so long as the lions stand tall.” The sword cleaves his head off after that.


	43. Vipers

**10 th Month of 298 A.C. Highgarden**

**Prince Oberyn Martell**

For years he had waited for the chance to get revenge for the deaths of Elia and her children, and for years he had listened and watched as the Targaryens had done everything but plan their return to Westeros. Now that Arianne was wed to King Daeron, and with Doran’s health beginning to fail more with every passing year, Oberyn was finally getting his chance for revenge. Of course he was happy that his niece had given birth to a boy whom she had named Baelor after the blessed and as such that Doran was finally a grandfather, Dorne was also thoroughly content now with the chance to gain revenge for their slain princess and her children and Oberyn was thriving on such feelings.

As to the battles that had been fought under Oberyn’s command, well as the forces had gathered at the Torrentine river, and had marched from Sunspear with the remaining retainers towards the River and then crossed into the reach proper. There they had faced a fight from the bannermen of House Hightower whom had put up stiff resistance though that had ended when the king’s own army had come and joined in slaughtering the host commanded by Lord Martyn Mullendore, the man himself had been slain and from there they had marched on. With the king splitting off to go raiding along the coast, Oberyn had brought his own host of 15,000 spears to challenge the might of Oldtown.

The might of Oldtown it seemed was merely 10,000 men commanded by Ser Garth Hightower, whilst the Ironborn raided along their coasts. As such the battle of the dunes was a fierce battle one of the most fiercely fought ones that Oberyn had ever took part in. Hightower was a fierce commander and whilst Oberyn had faced his fair share of challenges during his time as a sellsword Hightower was on another level, and for a fair part of the battle Oberyn had genuinely thought that they might lose. It was only when Obara brought Hightower low and Oberyn himself finished the job that he began to see a change. Hightower was the one holding this army together without him there his men were unsure of what to do and they were beaten fairly easy.

Oberyn’s battle lust had been high though at the end of that battle, and perhaps against his better judgement he had led his men and women towards Oldtown itself hoping to perhaps sack the city and gain some riches. That had of course not gone according to plan, it had been thousands of years perhaps since Oldtown had been sacked, and as such their defences were so good that Oberyn had seen many of his soldiers fall to their deaths in the pit traps before he finally decided to call the attempt off. Though of course there were some hot headed defenders who had come calling trying to give back as good as they got and they had been fairly beaten, though Oberyn himself had taken an injury during the fighting.

And then had come a day that Oberyn had waited for, for years. Ever since that damned tourney and over hearing the remarks made by the man, Oberyn had hungered for a chance to bring Randyll Tarly down to ground. And at the battle of the Mander such an opportunity arose. Whilst Mace Tyrell was slain at Red Lake, Oberyn and his remaining army fought Tarly’s host in the Mander, and using the experience of growing up fighting in water, Oberyn dug several traps of Tarly’s men and when they fell into those traps Oberyn barked in laughter. Then when Tarly himself had come into Oberyn’s path, by the gods he would have thanked them if he still believed in them. Tarly died by the hands of his spear and Oberyn rejoiced bringing his head into Highgarden for negotiations.

The man who greeted him in the lord’s solar was not the buffoon his father had been, nor was he the young man whom Oberyn had come to befriend in years since that tourney. Willas Tyrell looked worn down and haggard and tired, very, very tired. “Ah Prince Oberyn my friend, thank you for coming, you must forgive me for not coming up to greet you. My tiredness and body are rebelling against common sense. Please have a seat so we might begin.”

Oberyn smiled at his friend and said. “Of course no problem my lord.” Once he was seated he took the glass of wine offered him and then began speaking. “So my lord Willas have you asked me here to discuss terms and bring about an end to this foolish fighting that exists between our peoples so we might focus on the true threat?”

His friend is silent for a moment and then says. “I admit that the continued fighting between us is at once undesirable and unnecessary, after all the Ironborn continue to cause problems on our coasts and those who might be looking to cause us harm from the Stormlands have been dealt with. And yet there is one issue that holds my hand back from allying with the Targaryens.”

“You are worried about your sister and whether she will be safe when news of your breaking of oath to the Lannisters comes through. I can very well understand your worries my lord, but I must insist that your sister will not be in danger.” Oberyn says.

“And how can you be sure of that Oberyn? I mean no offence but your own sister paid at the hands of such a belief he last time there was a war involving most of Westeros. And this time the Lannisters are not going to hesitate to kill her straight away when news comes of me breaking the vow my father swore.”

Keeping himself calm, Oberyn replied. “Trust me when I say the Lady Margery shall not be in any danger. I am better prepared than I was when Rhaegar’s mistake cost Elia her life. This time all the plans are in place and if your sister is as smart as you, she will know what to do when the time comes.”

His friend though was determined to get more out of him. “But how can you be sure? There are many people in the Red Keep who know the ins and outs and the games these people play. I do not know whether I trust them more or less.”

Oberyn could sense that his friend would not be put at rest before having some concrete assurance so he said. “Know that your sister will be in good hands. Beric Dondarrion and Allyria Dayne shall see to her safety and Joffrey Baratheon himself shall not last for too long once news comes.”

His friend looks at him somewhat aghast and then sighs. “I suppose that I have no choice but to believe you. I am sorry for this my friend, it is just that so much has been going wrong for us since father decided to side with Renly that I have considered perhaps merely losing sight of everything and retiring.”

Taking pity on his friend Oberyn says. “And consider giving over everything your family has worked for to the Florents? I think not, Willas. You are too smart and stubborn to allow such a thing to come to fruition. What have those pesky foxes been doing since their king was killed?”

His friend laughs somewhat and then says. “Oh they have been complaining alright, exiled from Brightwater Keep during the blackwater, they have been filtering back to Dragonstone and causing trouble there. Some have fled to Oldtown and are hiding there plotting something or the other. And one has come to Highgarden to seek sanctuary due to the feeling that her husband’s brothers will seek to bring about her son’s end.”

Oberyn’s ears perk up at this and he asks. “And whom is the woman who has come asking you for aid during a time of war?”

His friend sighs and Oberyn is somewhat surprised to see the look of sadness passing across his friend’s face. “Melessa Florent, the wife of the former Lord Tarly and a relative of mine through marriage. Her son Dickon is serving as a squire in King’s Landing and her daughter has been wed to Ser Donald Tarly, a cousin by force. This Tarly has declared for Daeron Targaryen in hopes that Dickon will be killed. She asks for my intervention and yet I cannot move without risk to us all.”

Oberyn looked at his friend then and said. “I do believe that fault lies with me. I was the one who killed Lord Tarly. Had I not done that, perhaps this situation would not have arisen. But then the question arises what is Dickon Tarly doing as a squire in King’s Landing. Was Lord Tarly foolish enough to agree to such a thing?”

His friend sighs once more and runs a hand through his hair. “I fear he did not have much of a choice Oberyn. For my father in his infinite wisdom decided that his most loyal bannerman’s son would squire for one of the Lannisters as a chance to further the aims and ambitious of himself and our family. It is a move that has effectively made Lord Dickon a hostage to not only his own’ family’s good behaviour but also mine. I cannot risk seeing a cousin broken down so low and it is also something I cannot allow.”

Oberyn nods at his friend and says. “I can somewhat understand the predicament you are in my friend. But believe me when I say soon enough those worries shall not be as prominent. I cannot say much more for fear of the ears around the castle, but I must ask now, are you willing to bend the knee?”

Willas looked more beaten down than he had done during any other time Oberyn had known him. “Aye I suppose I have no other choice.”

“You always have a choice my friend,” Oberyn says. “It is just a case of whether you wish to appear cowed or if you wish to stand strong and firm and refuse to be bent by lions.”

His friend is silent and then he says. “Aye that is very true. But then I do not wish to see my family killed by a vengeful dragon. Tell me what the terms that King Daeron proposes are?”

Oberyn takes a deep sip of wine and then says. “If you chose to bend the knee, his grace King Daeron shall pardon you and your bannermen for siding with the Lannisters and Renly, and shall restore some of the gold and plunder taken from you during the raiding. He will also confirm the possession of Brightwater Keep to your brother Ser Garlan. In return for this, King Daeron wants your undying loyalty through time immemorial and no more switching and turning, once your oath is made it is shall remain. Furthermore, your sister the lady Margery is to wed the king’s own brother Prince Viserys Targaryen. And the remaining forces of the reach are called upon to deal with the Lannisters.”

Willas is silent a long time and then he eventually says. “And what will happen if I refuse to bend the knee and remain true to the oath my father swore and to my sister as Queen?”

Oberyn looks at his friend a moment and though he knows that his friend is not seriously considering not bending the knee he says simply. “You would be crushed and your bannermen would abandon you. Highgarden would be sacked and the Tyrells would be wiped out the castle given to someone else. King Daeron is a man capable of such things.”

His friend is silent again, and this time the silence stretches on for much longer until Willas says. “Very well then I accept the king’s terms and do hereby pledge the fealty of House Tyrell and the lords of the Reach to King Daeron Targaryen third of his name.”


	44. Reunion

**12 th Month of 298 A.C. Bitterbridge**

**Prince Jon Targaryen**

It appeared that the war was beginning to wind down, with the surrender of Storm’s End and the large subjection of the Stormlands only King’s Landing remained insistent in denying the power of his uncle the king. Storm’s End itself had surrendered only after Jon had been forced to make some promises he was not sure he could entirely keep. The foremost of these promises was that Edric Storm Robert Baratheon’s only recognised bastard son would be spared, Jon had also said he would take up the case of whether the boy got Storm’s End or not with the king once the war was done. The other terms of the surrender were more in favour with the king’s desires, and as such Jon had earned much acclaim and praise for bringing the siege to a bloodless end, thus further weakening the Lannister’s power.

Once the Stormlands had been reasonably subdued, Jon had received a raven from his uncle and king ordering him to Bitterbridge to meet and convey reports and such. Jon had taken his men to the place where Maegor Targaryen had broken the faith many years ago, and there had been reunited with his uncle. His uncle had seemed greatly pleased with the work he had done, and that had filled him with a sense of pride and had somewhat helped to reduce the feelings of anger that had been brewing for some time. And then there had been his reunion with his cousin Robb, Jon had heard of his uncle’s death in Dorne and as such had been very confused as to what he felt. He and Robb had embraced and had spoken for some time but Jon was not sure what to make of his cousin, he was different just as Jon was sure he was different, Robb was a man now hardened by war but somewhat still naïve to the ways of the world. In some ways Jon felt he could truly relate to what Robb said and thought, and when told that he was to wed his cousin Sansa, Jon had not known what to do, the girl was just that a girl. Whilst Robb marrying Daenerys had created some loathing of his cousin for that.

It was with these thoughts that Jon came to the war council being held within the castle. His uncle spoke first as always. “This war has taught us many things my lords, it has shown just how fickle some people can be when there is much on the line. And it has taught us that we might find allies in the most unlikely of places. The westerlands are a smouldering ruin now, and with Lannisport sacked and destroyed it is likely that they shall not be a force to reckon with for much longer. The Reach in itself is now going to be restored somewhat, though not completely. The riverlands are also facing some difficulty. But right now the key is to take King’s Landing. And for that I would ask my scouts and the commander of the out riders Prince Jon to give report.”

Jon nodded at his uncle and then said. “From what we have been able to gather, the lords of the Riverlands are mustering in good order though there is some trouble with rabble rousers in the some parts, they should be able to join us in time for the march on King’s Landing. The lords of the Stormlands are already marching towards King’s Landing preparing to give battle and chase. Tywin Lannister and his men as well as the lords of the crownlands have begun preparing for a siege and are also sending men out to scurry for word on our own movements.”

The king nodded at that and said. “Tis a good thing then that we have so many men here, for though the Stormlords proclaim loyalty they are a fickle bunch and one can never truly trust them too much. The injuries that Lord Connington sustained and his later death is proof of this. Very well, Prince Oberyn I wish for you to take your spears to march into the Stormlands alongside this host of Stormlanders and to report on their movements and as such if there should be a case of betrayal remind them what will happen to Edric Storm should they consider turning cloak.”

The Dornish prince nodded but Jon’s cousin spoke then. “Your Grace, whilst I understand the importance of having them kept a watch, surely threatening the life of a boy who has done nothing, is breaking the vows of honour and knightly code by which Prince Jon swore to get their surrender?”

Jon rolled his eyes at his cousin’s naivety and said. “Lord Stark, whilst your intention is good, the sense is lacking. The Stormlords have shown that they are a treacherous lot, they turn cloak faster than a whore changes her clients. The king is wise in showing them that he trusts them only so far as he can throw them. And Edric Storm is a reminder of what will happen should they consider turning cloak.”

His cousin looked ready to argue but then Lord Willam Dustin spoke. “And what parts would you have us play Your Grace?”

The king, was lost in thought for a moment and then said. “I would have the strength of the north march alongside mine own army as we take the city which has always been ours. The fist shall be yours, and when the Lannisters come marching out you shall bathe them in red and gold, but not the good kind, oh no, it is time for them to become the recipients of their own medicine.”

There was some laughter at that and then Ser Garlan spoke. “And what of our own forces Your Grace? There are still some reachmen in King’s Landing and more than likely it will be a reachmen leading them, what would you have me do?”

Jon looked at his uncle and saw the first lines of tiredness beginning to show on the man’s face, but still his voice was strong and convincing when he said. “I would have you do what you have always done. You shall be the hammer with which we strike the death knell. Yes there might be reachmen coming out to fight for Joffrey the ill born but they shall not last for long, for you shall kill them all of them, be they family or foe they shall pay the price for their continued treachery.”

Ser Garlan- Lord Garlan he supposes- looks somewhat uncomfortable and asks. “I do not mean to ask and seem disobedient Your Grace, but has there been any word of my sister Margaery? For it would put my mind at ease for the task at hand.”

Jon looks at his uncle once more and sees the king’s face remaining impressively impassive throughout all this, the words his uncle says are delivered in a monotone voice. “All I know from what I have heard is that she is safe and shall be away from King’s Landing before we set out to march. Now there are some more pressing matters that must be discussed.”

There is some murmuring at that and then his uncle silences all with a raised hand. “We shall continue the discussion of the war effort at a later date my lords but now I have something with which to reward my nephew with. Though he no longer has a claim on the throne, he has proved himself every inch a true Targaryen and as such as well as being married to Sansa Stark he shall be named Prince of Summerhall. Whilst the castle is in ruins somewhat now, with the end of this war we shall use some of the gold taken to rebuild the castle and make in liveable and fit for a prince.”

There are cheers then and Jon though somewhat surprised accepts the honour with some grace, and once the cheers have settled down, his uncle turns to him and Jon delivers the next piece of news expected. “Having delivered my report to the king on the movements of the enemy troops, I have asked for the chance to lead the first party to march out towards King’s Landing.”

“And considering the lad has done so much for our cause, we have seen fit to grant it to him. Prince Jon shall march from Bitterbridge and shall meet up with the Riverlords in the riverlands and from there assault King’s Landing. The first charge will go down in history. We wish you well nephew.” The king says.

There is more discussion about the upcoming battle and then once that is all done they are dismissed from the solar and Jon is soon in his room, when there is a knock on the door and his cousin enters. Jon looks at Robb awkwardly not sure how to greet him and instead merely asks that he sit down and then sensing the tension asks. “You do not approve of the king’s plan Lord Stark?”

Hi cousin looks at him and says. “It is not the plan I have a problem with it is the coldness with which the man carries it out with. It is as if he has no care in the world for those who are fighting for him or as if they are merely pieces on a board game for him to move as he wills.”

Jon considers this then says. “The king, he is an interesting man, for so long I admired him and saw him as a god who could do no wrong, and then I learned the truth of my parentage. I was angry at him for using me as a pawn in his game, and I was also angry with father for not telling me the truth from the beginning. But now, now that I have fought and commanded men I can somewhat understand why he did what he did, and why he does what he does.”

“He seems so cold, and making you give up your right to the throne? He seems no different to how we were told many other Targaryens were during our lessons with maester Luwin. You should be King Jon, it is your right!” his cousin says.

“I do not want to be king, I never wanted a crown even when I was a boy and I dreamed of Winterfell. All I wanted was a family, and besides Daeron will make a far better king than I ever would, and I do not wish to sit that damnable chair. Now enough of this pointless bickering cousin, tell me of my fellow cousins and Aunt Catelyn, how do they do?” Jon replied.

Robb looks ready to argue again but his face softens somewhat and his voice takes on a fond tone as he speaks of his mother and siblings. “Mother was well before the war began, now I do believe that she might very well be stuck in grief, I have not heard from her in sometime, but I know that Bran and Rickon and the girls provide her with endless amounts of Joy. Bran is a terror forever climbing the buildings of Winterfell and giving mother a heart attack. He desperately wants to be a knight and perhaps I shall allow him that chance. Rickon is very young, but is very fierce, as for Arya well she is as wild as ever, and Sansa, I think you will like Sansa Jon. She is the perfect lady and someone who knows how to hold an argument.”

Jon smiles and says. “I hope so cousin, I do hope so.” With that their conversation ends and Robb gets up and retires to his own room. Jon is left to think over the events of the past seven years and the fact that he has grown into a man whilst away from the one place where he felt at home, the man he thought his father for so long is now dead, and he is to marry the man’s daughter. These thoughts plague him into the morning where he is armoured and ready to leave at first light.

Before leaving his uncle comes to him and says. “You have done very well Jon, truly you have. You have done yourself proud and your parents and myself proud. Go now and end what these men started all those years ago.”

Jon nods and rides out into the light.


	45. The Final Fight

**2 nd Month of 299 A.C. Tumbleton**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

The war, the war he had been thinking of, dreaming of even since he had fled Dragonstone all those years ago was finally coming to a close. King’s Landing and the Iron Throne were in his sights, and soon enough he knew he would sit the throne of his ancestors. The Lannisters had lost what allies they had had during the course of this war either through defeat in the field or through sheer stupidity and over confidence on their own part. Daeron had tasted success at Red Lake when he had been the one to slay Mace Tyrell and when he had watched Lannisport burn he had felt like a conqueror, the conqueror even, he had managed to achieve what Aegon the dragon had not a complete humbling of the lions as their prized city lay in ruins, that the Rock still stood was something that irked him but he knew it would be years before the Lannisters ever amounted to anything. As to his family, Jon had proved himself well, a capable warrior and commander who had delivered the Stormlands and had stopped acting the boy and become a man. Jaehaerys skill with a blade had shown itself and Daeron had taken great pride in naming him to the Kingsguard, and Viserys had also shown himself skilled and level headed. There was much to take pleasure from in this war and once the crownlands fell they would be successful and the mess Rhaegar had made of things so many years ago would be righted.

There had of course been consequences of the campaign, Ser Willam Darry, the man who had been more of a father and advisor to Daeron than his own father had ever been had died during the sacking of Lannisport of five arrows to the back and front. The man had fought bravely and truly and had represented everything that his house stood for, a good man, and an honest one as well, Daeron would miss him. And of course with Darry’s death, Aemon, Daeron’s brother had become his sole responsibility and that was something that he had never known how to truly relate to the boy, though he had tried his best and as such he had done his utmost to make sure that he was safe and sound, and Aemon had shown to be a good squire, someone who would make a fine knight in time to come.  The struggles through all of that and knowing his mother and his wife and his mistress and his son Baelor were in Dorne doing their best to remain alive was something that kept him going through everything, he could not and would not allow this to sway or break him, he had sworn that to himself.

He looked forward to the day he could hold his son in his arms, according to Arianne the child, Baelor she had named him looked exactly like him with violet eyes and silver hair, and was a sweet babe. Him a father, he was not sure what to make of that, he had known he would need to have children to continue the line and make sure his claim was secure, but for so long he had never truly thought about it. With Ashara it had never been an issue, she had not wanted children after the girl Stark put in her at Harrenhal was a miscarriage, and then when she had told him she might be pregnant before leaving for war only to find out she was not, it was something that he had never paid much thought to. Of course now that he was a father, he looked forward to seeing his son and of course his wife, Arianne was a different kind of woman, strong and fierce and determined to get what she wanted, he found himself oddly fascinated by her and her tendencies, and when she had invited Ashara into their room during their wedding night, by the gods he’d thought his eyes would pop out. Needless to say he was looking forward to seeing them again.

Right now, such thoughts were having to be pushed from his mind, the battle to get into King’s Landing had begun. The Lannister soldiers had found them at Tumbleton, and as Daeron sat atop his horse on the peak where it is said many kings of ages gone by had stood and looked down, he thinks of the battle that is raging around him. Men are screaming, men are crying, there is blood everywhere, and there is gore, there is mud, there is dirt. All the things from his time in Essos could not have prepared him for the carnage that is coming now. 15,000 Lannister soldiers fighting against his 20,000 men and it is absolute chaos. Death has a firm grip around them all, and Daeron swears his breath is leaving his body faster than it comes in.

Lord Willam Dustin held the left, and as Daeron watched from the peak he saw the wolf of House Stark, the crowned axes of House Dustin and his own three headed dragon banner flying proudly in the air as the chaos continued. Dustin was a good man, a capable warrior and commander, the right hand of the boy Robb Stark.  Dustin balanced out the Stark lords naivety, and somewhat made the boy bearable Daeron found. His own tiredness meant he was not charging along like a mad man, his brother Viserys was doing that, trying to prove himself and as such Daeron watched and observed and waited for the right time to move his own men into position. Hopefully when Tywin Lannister came into view, gods would he give something, anything to slash and kill that bastard.

The battle was waging on, and Daeron was growing impatient where the man and his damnable lion banner was, he looked toward Ser Gerold and the old bull merely looked at him and said. “I do not see it yet, be patient Your Grace and I am sure that the man will come. We are winning after all.”

Daeron snorts. “By the gods Ser, I will be an old man by the time the man comes along with his own force. I am growing impatient waiting, they are winning all the glory down there.”

They say nothing more, and merely watched the battle as it unfolds, the chaos and the screams that come forth, reminding him of the very first battle he fought in for the Second Sons. Gods that seems so long ago, and truly it was, the fighting is getting more and more erratic as he looks down below, perchance his men are sensing victory, that is risky, they cannot get complacent otherwise the lions will seize the day and if there is one thing he is determined to ensure, it is that the lions are humbled at the end of this not more successful. He wonders how his nephew is getting on, Jon had seemed quite keen to lead the front charge into King’s Landing though Daeron wonders if that has more to do with his own desire to prove himself rather than any tactical advantage, and like a fool Daeron had allowed for it to happen one day he would come regret that he knew. And he hoped to god that today would not be that day, there was still so much that needed to be done.

Just when Daeron was about to think that the old lion would never show, the golden lion significant to Tywin Lannister comes into his sight, and drawing his sword Daeron signals and then leads the charge, he shall have his revenge. He and his men descend on the army below them like a pack of ravaging dogs, or wolves, or even dragons desperate for blood. Hell incarnate, the slope of the peak gives them speed and so they come crashing into the Lions soldiers as they come, swinging and slashing, the ground beneath them is wet with blood and mud and dirt, and still they push and swarm and act as one single body, fighting a virus. It is this that has made Daeron so curious as to the nature of battle, not the planning but the actual fighting, and it is this which guides his roars at his men, the shouts of left, and right mean little all else but his men as they swing round and back into the enemy.

The slush and the muck make it hard for Daeron to truly ascertain whether this push is going to work or not but still he pushes on determined not to be stymied by uncertainty he has come too far to let such things ruin this. They push hard and Daeron begins coating his sword in blood, slicing through men as they come before him as they wheel around and begin the dance from new angles, swinging and slashing, gods is it murky in here, Daeron is soon sweating through his armour and it is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and still he sees no sign of Tywin Lannister though he did not think to. They break away and begin to push again and break away once more and begin cutting the slackers from the lions who have not taken the hint yet.

“By the gods where is Lannister?” Daeron thinks, “He should be here now unless he has finally taken it into his head to run away scared.” Of course Daeron knows that is not the case and when he hears a horn blast and looks to see lions coming down towards the wolves he roars a challenge and thinks of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon and pushes on through the pain towards achieving their goal and their dream. He cuts through those who get in his way, ignoring the way his horse slips and slides on the mud and the blood, and the feeling of uneasiness in his own stomach.

The wolves are doing well holding off the lions but they do look to be breaking, and Daeron can only see red then, the cloaks Aegon and Rhaenys and Elia, sweet Elia were wrapped in when they were presented to Robert Baratheon and his anger fuels him. Swinging and slashing he cuts down the men in his path looking for the man who is responsible for the deaths of so many innocents the man must pay and this time he will ensure he does. His men and the wolves are fighting for their lives here, something is going on but what it is he is not so sure, but by the gods will he keep going even if he must die to ensure it, he will keep fighting and he will not stop. Swinging, the ground is becoming more and more uneven but still he pushes through determined to end this now and here, Tywin Lannister death would bring about the circle he has been so determined to see.

Swinging, the battle goes on, and the world spins, there is so much going on and truly he knows not what is going to happen, it seems his mind and his body are no longer working in conjunction with one another and the feeling somewhat disconcerts him but still he continues fighting. His sword is stained red with blood and by the gods is he tired, but he keeps fighting determined to see this through. He finally meets the old lion and his anger goes red, their blades meet and on they go the dance begins and all else is ignored apart from their swords and the feeling of justice coming into his grasp.

They dance once more and Daeron knows his vision is beginning to fail and yet he continues swinging his sword determined to not allow this opportunity to go. He will give credit where it is due, Tywin Lannister is definitely a strong man, and a good swordsman but he is no match for Daeron who knows the tricks and when they begin to weaken, Daeron uses a feint and a slash to bury his sword deep into the man’s side before feeling a sharp pain in his own side, but sees nothing there, he pulls his sword out of the man and roars victory and then the rout begins.


	46. The Final Fight Part II

**2 nd Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**Ser Kevan Lannister**

The war had been raging for two years now and for most of it they had been on the back foot. The accusations that Stannis Baratheon had made, it seemed were in fact true, Kevan was no fool he had seen how his niece pined after her brother, and he had seen the way they interacted with one another when they thought no one was looking for years before that, that Tywin had not acknowledged that or had refused to acknowledge that was perhaps down to his pride more than any common sense. Losing Gregor Clegane had been a big blow to their plans, and though the blackwater had seen them win the initiative back so many other things had gone wrong that perhaps it was indeed time to begin considering surrender, though he hated to think of it that way.

More news and tragedy had come from the front, as Tywin had left for Tumbleton to deal with the Targaryen host coming up from Bitterbridge, news had come of his death during the battle, slain by Daeron Targaryen. The news of his death had brought shock and chaos to the people of King’s Landing and the court of the Red Keep, and the tensions were beginning show. Cersei was growing more and more erratic and as such Kevan had had to order her confined to her chambers, whilst the boy who was king was growing more and more determined to prove himself in the field of battle and Kevan was not sure just how much longer he could prevent the boy from doing something rash, he was definitely a lot like Jaime, if Jaime were sadistic and crazy.

“So Ser Kevan what news do you have to bring me today?” the king asked sat on his throne. Gazing down at them all like they were nothing more than cockroaches.

Kevan took a deep breath and said. “The Targaryen and Stark armies march towards King’s Landing and grow closer with every passing day Your Grace. The host commanded by the hand of the king Lord Tywin Lannister has since either been routed or captured. The Stormlords have been giving Prince Oberyn Martell some trouble along the way, and yet there is not much more they can do. And a host commanded by Prince Jon Targaryen is nearly at our gates.”

The king as expected does not take this news well. “And what is being done to rectify this problem? Have the lords of the Vale finally realised that they must answer the call to arms? Where are the lords of the crownlands and their numbers? What of the city watch, what part will they play? And has anyone found my gods damned wife?”

Kevan sighed, the king was like to work himself into a state over this. “The city’s defences are being looked into and fortified Your Grace, the city watch is constantly patrolling the walls of the city to ensure no one sneaks up on us unannounced. As for the lords of the crownlands they are all within the city and are beginning to prepare for the battle to come. The lords of the Vale continue to remain silent and do not answer our call to arms, as to why that is, I do not know.”

The king looks thoroughly discontent on this and then asks. “And what of my bride? Has anyone found Queen Margaery?”

At this Kevan shakes his head and says. “Unfortunately not Your Grace. No one has seen the Queen since the feast of the maiden, and as such there is enough going on meaning that not enough resources can truly be put into use to find her. Undoubtedly she is dead, and as such this should not be a consideration anymore.”

The king looks wroth at that and snarls. “I want her found and found soon. She is my wife and she is supposed to be with child. I shall not have her lost and discovered by those savages nor the incestuous bastards known as the Targaryens.”

Kevan sighed and nodded. “As you command Your Grace.”

The king was about to say more when Janos Slynt the commander of the city watch entered the throne room and rather breathlessly said. “Your Grace, banners have been sighted. The three headed dragon of House Targaryen.”

The king’s eyes glisten with rare anger and hatred, and his voice is shaky when he says. “Very well, tell the gold cloaks to prepare for war. Ser Kevan prepare the lords of the crownlands.”

Both men nod and leave, and soon enough Kevan is armoured and on the walls of King’s Landing with his men and some 10,000 lords from the crownlands watching as the dragon banners get closer and closer. A sense of dread and anticipation begins build inside of him and he is not sure how he feels completely, but he knows he will give it his all, and when a horn sounds and banners are seen, white banners of parley, Kevan wonders what to do. The riders are outside the gates for a long time before they turn round and the sight of battering rams and elephants come into view. The king is nowhere in sight, the battering rams come closer. “Archers prepare to fire.” Kevan roars, and as the order gets passed down the line, he begins to pray. “Knock,” he calls. “Loose” he roars, and the arrows fire, and some men below go tumbling down to their deaths others avoid the arrows and begin firing arrows of their own.

The roar of elephants startles Kevan and he looks down to see the beasts charging at the walls as if they have no care in the world for their own safety. And when they get close enough to nearly touch, Kevan can see why they carry archers with fire arrows and spears and the like, battering rams as well. One elephant, then another slams into the walls causing them to shake, and Kevan begins praying more and more to the seven, hoping for some relief. The carnage is beginning to spill into the city as Kevan hears rather than sees the lion gate break wide open and soon enough he finds himself drowned in a sea of red and black as the fighting enters is first stage. The battle is chaotic and Kevan knows not how long he fights for, or even if he is truly fighting and not just giving into the bodily motions that some would call fighting.

His blade is running red by the time he realises that more and more men are swarming into the city, the other gates must clearly have been breached, which means there has been an underwhelming response by the gold cloaks. Gods this is getting too much he swings his sword and manages to kill one man, then another, but there are too many of them. They are coming from all directions, swinging their swords and cutting his men down to size. Tiredness begins to overwhelm him but he still fights on, knowing nothing more could come from this than a last stand, if he is to die, let him die with a sword in hand. He fights and blocks, and kills and hurts, and his armour runs red with blood and dirt and gore, and still he pushes on knowing in his heart that it is a lost cause.

The right of the crownlands army breaks soon after this revelation comes to him as he sees northmen streaming into the city followed by sellswords bearing the banners of the golden company, by the gods is he tired. He knows not where he will go or what to do, he and his men fight desperately through all the chaos, and his armour is dented in so many places it becomes hard for him to breathe. When he hears a scream and a cry, he stops and turns around and sees his son Lancel lying there dying, he hates himself for what he does then, but he does not go to his son and instead goes and pushes on through the mesh of bodies fighting and on the ground, hating himself all the while for doing so. But knowing in his heart that there is nowhere else to go but to the Red Keep, even if the city falls the keep cannot fall.

Chaos is engulfing the streets and Kevan is reminded somewhat of the sack except it seems the Targaryen soldiers are being a lot more restrained compared to how the Lannister men were sixteen years ago, and such a thought makes him wonder and fear how they will all be treated by this new Targaryen king. Swinging and slashing soon becomes the routine, the way up to Aegon’s High Hill they are beaten back there by rabid sellswords and Targaryen men, who are crushing their way through the throng of bodies, there is blood on the streets and carnage everywhere. Tiredness is engulfing him he is not sure how long he can keep fighting but he knows he must at least make it back to the Red Keep and inside before he slinks to death.

His body is beginning to fail, tiredness is engulfing him like a rabid dog consumes a piece of meat. His eyes are barely remaining open, the struggle back up the hill is something that he knows he will not forget anytime soon. By the gods does he want to sleep and rest, but he is a Lannister and their family has not known rest since the days of their grandfather Lord Gerold, and it is like that they never will once this is all done and said. Covered in dents and bruises, Kevan knows his time is coming and still he stands firm, as the doors to the Red Keep are opened, he stands in front of the gateway a lone warrior against a horde of hungry dragons. He kills one man then another, then another and then another, before, running inside and ordering the doors shut, he can hear the sounds of the battering rams being brought out in full force and he knows that soon enough the dragons will be breathing in.

Kevan staggers down the pathways of the Red Keep looking for somewhere to rest just for a moment before the doors come banging down and the dragons come roaring in, and as he sees a knight of the Kingsguard covered in blood doing the same as him he calls. “Where is the king Ser?”

“King Joffrey?” the man asks and he realises that the man is Ser Boros Blount, “Dead Ser. Slain on the hill.”

Kevan would roar at the man but he staggers on before turning and yelling. “Where is King Tommem and the Princess Myrcella.” The man does not deign to reply and so Kevan staggers on.

He manages to make to near the Maidenvault when he feels the breath of the dragon behind him. Turning round sure enough there standing at the other end of the hallway are soldiers with the Targaryen dragon on their armour, the head is a man who must Jon Targaryen, and as such Kevan and his men rally, and begin to prepare for the fight. Every bone in his body is aching and he cannot see straight but still he manages to get himself ready and riled up for the fight that comes, he and his men crash into the far superior Targaryen men fighting them, and as such they manage to bring down a fair few men before their own numbers begin to be curtailed and cut down. Swinging his sword for his life, he keeps pushing thinking of everything he was ever taught by Tywin and Roger Reyne, and he keeps his ground as the men around him fall, as the blood covers the walls and the floor of the red keep and he keeps his head cool as the struggle continues. Swinging his sword, and cutting down men, the pain in his arms and his legs and his chest continues to grow until he cannot feel anything anymore and then he sees his mother again and he knows he is dead.


	47. Crowning Glory

**Fifth Month of 299 A.C. King’s Landing**

**King Daeron III Targaryen**

For two years the war had waged, and for a year and a half of that, Daeron had been there leading the charge and avenging his family on those who had done them wrong. Along the way, unusual alliances had been made and old ones had been renewed, and he had discovered more about himself and his men then he would’ve known otherwise. Many things had come and gone during this war, and Daeron felt that the songs would make many a tail of it all, but all he knew was that the feeling of peace and justice that he had gotten from knowing that Lannisport and the Lannisters were crushed for time to come, was something that pleased him greatly.  The war had cost them all many things, Ser Willam Darry had died and many others had died along the way to achieving this, Aegon amongst them, but in the end it was worth it.

The final taking of King’s Landing itself had been quite bloody, the lions had fought hard at Tumbleton and the crownlords had fought hard within the city as well. There were Lannisters within the city as well when Daeron had entered still putting up a fight, but they had quickly been silenced. The boy king had been slain outside the red keep and as such his head now decorated a spike above the walls of the red keep. The battle had taken sometime to wind down but once it had, Daeron had seen to most of the effects of what needed to be done, he had been crowned in the Great Sept of Baelor alongside his wife Arianne who had come from Sunspear by sea. He had been crowned with a crown made of solid gold, a mere band with seven rubies in it and a dragon at the front, his wife crowned with the same crown. Their son Baelor was a delight silver hair and violet eyes, eyes wide with curiosity and Daeron had never felt so much in love as he had when looking at his son. The crowds had cheered when Daeron and his queen had come out and Daeron had smiled a rare thing that, and he had felt some sense of pride.

Once he had been crowned Daeron had decided to throw the triple weddings that were to be had. Lady Margaery had been found at Antlers, where Prince Oberyn had said she would be and so three weddings were held at the Great Sept of Baelor at the same time. Daenerys had looked radiant in her wedding gown and Daeron could not help but think that Robb Stark was a lucky man, his sister was glowing, and Daeron had felt his heart heavy when they had finished saying their vows and kissed. With Jon it was a different feeling, his nephew was now a man grown and as such had proved himself in battle, the Lady Sansa was as beautiful if not more so than her mother and glowed as well, but in a different way to Daenerys, and Daeron could tell from looking at his nephew that the boy felt lucky. Viserys and Margaery had been an interesting pair, both of them flatterers and as such Daeron would watch their marriage with great interest. The bedding and the feasts had all been success and as such with that all out of the way Daeron had decided now was the time to sort out the final sentencing.

Daeron called the throne room to order and then said. “My lords and ladies, I thank you for your eternal patience. It has been three moons since the war for the throne ended. And in that time many things have been done and said. There have been three marriages for our family and this fills us with happiness and pride. But there are more serious matters that must be discussed and right now that belongs to the final sentencing.” Nodding to the herald who calls for those in question to be brought in he turns to the room at large and says. “House Lannister has committed many felonies in recent years, the sack of king’s landing being amongst one of their most grievous offences. But in recent years there was another offence they have committed. Or rather one that two members of the house committed, the crime of breaking wedding vows and the vows of Kingsguard, and passing off their offspring as Robert Baratheon’s trueborn children. I speak of course of Ser Jaime Lannister and Cersei Lannister. What do you two have to say?”

There is a lot of murmuring around the room, but the whole room goes silent as Jaime Lannister speaks. “I admit that I have done many things wrong in my life my king, but I do not accept that it is a crime to love one’s sister. After all your own parents were brother and sister and as such you would not be here if such a thing were a crime. Joffrey, Tommem and Myrcella were never any children of mine.”

There is more murmuring at that and Daeron looks at the knight he admired as a boy and asks. “So you deny producing the children named by you with your sister? But you do not deny sleeping with your sister in clear violation of your vows as a knight of the Kingsguard?”

The knight laughs somewhat and then says. “Oh no, I definitely slept with my sister and produced those three blond haired brats, but they were never my children as I was never allowed to claim them. Nor would I, I dislike children, they are nothing but rogues and a pain to their parents.”

There is a shocked gasp going up through the whole crowd, and Daeron raises a hand to silence it. He takes a minute to consider this and then says. “So you admit to sleeping with your sister and producing these children then Ser Jaime?” the man nods and Daeron goes on. “And what of you Cersei Lannister what do you make of these claims?”

All are silent as they wait for the former queen dowager to speak. Her tone is derisive and bitter when she does speak. “Due to my brother’s foolishness, I suppose I have nothing but to admit to this. Yes I fucked my brother the Kingslayer and produced three children who I then passed off as Robert Baratheon’s. But do not pretend to be disgusted by what I do Targaryen. Your whole family is built on incest and infidelity, you lost the throne once because your brother could not keep his cock in his trousers and you shall lose it once more because of that same problem. The lions will rise again. You are a murderer just as much as my father was.”

Daeron cannot help but laugh in the silence that follows the woman’s declaration. “Ah Cersei Lannister, a woman without equal. But a fool nonetheless. Perhaps I am like your father in more than one way, but at least I know when to stop on the brutality and I have never harmed innocent children or women. You on the other hand with your lust for power and greed, have caused this whole war to happen. For the crime of treason I sentence both of you to death by execution, and that is to happen right now. Lord Robb if you would do the honours.”

A lot of shock and murmuring follows that declaration and when Stark unsheathes Ice and both Lannisters are pushed down one after the other their heads are removed. Daeron knows that perhaps the action is perhaps a bit too extreme but considering the nature of their crimes it is fitting. Once the deed is done he says. “Mount the heads on spikes on the walls of the Red Keep. Now bring forth Tommem and Myrcella Waters.” The boy and girl are brought forward and the court goes silent once more. Daeron looks at them both and says. “Despite the crimes of your parents and brother, we have decided to spare you and have decided that Tommem Waters shall join the citadel whilst Myrcella Waters shall join the faith. Is there anyone who wishes to voice a complaint?”

As expected Prince Oberyn steps forward and asks. “Your Grace, Myrcella Waters when we thought her to be a princess of true birth was betrothed to my nephew Prince Trystane Martell, with the revelation of her true parentage my brother and the people of Dorne wonder how we are to be recompensed for this.”

Daeron looks at the man a moment and then says. “Whilst we understand the situation that Prince Doran finds himself in, it must be said that now is perhaps not the time to bring about such problems. However, seeing as Dorne has been our most faithful ally in these past few years, we have decided that Prince Doran’s son Quentyn Martell now his heir, shall wed Lady Elinor Tyrell and as such this match shall help bond your two houses closer together.”

Daeron expects there to be a protestation but then the Prince surprises him and says. “We humbly accept Your Grace, and thank you very much.” The prince bows and leaves.

Daeron takes a sip of water and then says. “Now we made two main proclamations during the course of this war, one was the announcement of Prince Jon Targaryen being named as Prince of Summerhall, Lord Varys we would hear how far along the rebuilding is?”

The eunuch stands forward then and says. “Your Grace, rebuilding is progressing at a fast pace, and should be ready within the next four to five moons.”

Daeron nods and then announces. “Viserys come forward,” his brother comes forward and then Daeron says. “You have served us very well during this war, and as such we feel that you have earned the title of Prince of Dragon Keep, you shall have the old keep of Daemon Blackfyre and all the associated lands and incomes as well as some more lands and incomes taken from those lords who were disloyal to us.”

“I am honoured Your Grace.” His brother says.

Daeron nods and then turns to the next item on his list. “When Aegon the Dragon was crowned king in the Starry Sept and began work on King’s Landing, his wife Queen Visenya devised an order of seven knights directly dedicated to his and the royal family’s protection. Many knights of renown have served in this order including Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and Ser Corlys Velaryon. It is our desire to see this order continue and as such we have our seven names for the white knights who will defend our royal person and that of our royal family.”

He nods towards the herald who speaks the names. “By decree of his grace King Daeron Targaryen third of his name, the Kingsguard from this day forth till their deaths shall be Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower, Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, Ser Daemon Sand, Ser Gerold Dayne, Ser Harry Rivers, Ser Loras Tyrell and Ser Ronald Storm.”

Daeron nods at the men in question and then proclaims loudly. “Let you serve well and true my knights and let me now formally announce our councillors to whom we will trust to aid us in the ruling of the kingdoms.”

The herald speaks once more and says clearly and loudly for all to hear. “These are the councillors the King in all his majesty has decided to name as his councillors. Hand of the King Prince Jon Targaryen, master of laws Prince Viserys Targaryen, master of coin Lord Petyr Baelish, and master of ships Lord Lucerys Velaryon.”

Daeron nods at the herald and then speaks clearly. “We have named our Kingsguard and our councillors we have given rewards and titles. It is time we confirm the issue of Storm’s End. The Baratheon line is failing, the girl Shireen Baratheon died during a plague at Dragonstone, and as such this leave but one known Baratheon bastard left to take the mantle. Therefore we legitimise Edric Storm as Edric Baratheon and shall take him on as a ward to teach him the values lacking in his forebearers.”

There is much murmuring at this and then an envoy comes forward as he was directed to, the man from the Vale known simply as Beric, kneels and says. “Your Grace, we in the Vale have long awaited your return, and as such there has been much thinking over what to do with the gifts I am to give you now. My lady, the lady Lysa Arryn wishes to give these gifts to you as a sign of fealty and to show that even though she could not send men to take part in the fighting, she and her son and the people of the Vale will forever be your loyal servants. I present to you King Daeron the Conqueror, eight dragon eggs.”

There is an audible gasp then, and Daeron himself feels his heart begin to beat more and more, but he remains seated and says calmly. “We thank you most kindly, we humbly accept this gift from House Arryn and welcome them into the fold as well as the rest of the Vale.” Then gesturing for a cup of wine be brought forward he takes it and stands. “Let us toast the coming of a new age in which all shall be right with the world and we shall know the endless peace.”


End file.
